The Ads Awaken
by JVM-SP150
Summary: Continuation of Season 19. When the Mayor announces plans for a PC Carnival/Conference, the Boys, Jimmy and David are South Park's only hope to discover the advertisements' conspiracy to bankrupt and destroy their town. Meanwhile, PC Principal and Randy are desperately searching for answers in the disappearance of their college fraternity brothers. COMPLETE!
1. Teaser

_Author's Note:_ __After four years, I'm back with my first "all-new" fanfic... and this one is a continuation of the previous season's story arcs to a sense of completion. If you've not yet watched Season 19 in full, I would not recommend reading this fanfic. You can always bookmark it and come back. I'm sure come S20 this fic will be irrelevant, but hopefully it'll be fun to write and to read, at least :)

This is my first new work in a while so you may notice some differences in writing style, humor, headcanon, and so forth. I'm older and more boring.

 _Disclaimer:_ I am not currently the owner of South Park or it's characters.

 **South Park:**

" **THE ADS AWAKEN"**

 **Prologue**

 _by John_

 _Critical Error..._

 _Critical Error..._

 _Critical Error..._

If there was one benefit of being a non-biological being, programmed from afar and created from artificial materials, it was the allure of immortality. All it took to restore a damaged unit was to rework information from the cloud back into a new unit.

 _Executing restoration program..._

As the original model had been destroyed some days earlier, and it's intelligence matrix heavily damaged, it had taken longer than usual to network the information from the cloud-based drive that had been specific to this unit. Nonetheless, they had restored the vital data.

 _Re-mapping intelligence matrix..._

A small, generic device that closely resembled a flash drive popped out of a small box - as a switch was turned, the small device began to process the massive amounts of recovered data, organizing it as it once had been, as it tried to recall it's programming.

 _Accessing unit template..._

A metallic, clawed arm removed the device and inserted it into the head of a generic robotic body to the proportions of a fourth grader, with black, hollow eyes and a chrome-like silver finish. The head was shut closed as the effort completed.

 _Generating new three-dimensional texture..._

A sensor appeared and began to 'scan' the robotic body from the bottom up, a pair of black gym shoes, green pants, and a bright yellow shirt with a small alien's face on it appeared, with flesh seeming to appear on the body as hands and a pretty face appeared, raven hair and a golden headband completing the unmistakable image of Leslie Meyers.

 _Activating link to the Global Ad Network..._

Her green eyes opened, flickering yellow for a moment as she awakened, "Huh? I'm alive?" Suddenly her eyes closed again.

 _Applying Updates... Please Wait..._

The shitty thing about not being a product of nature is being at the mercy of automatic product updates. Some inconveniences were simply unavoidable.

 **To Be Continued...**


	2. Here We Go Again

_Author's Note:_ __Sorry for the wait. Here's the first proper chapter which should begin to clue you guys in on the themes I'm working at. I know, I know - there is a _lot_ of crap going on and it's hard to take it all in... but to be fair, I'm working from the end of S19, which suffered from the very same problems. It'll get easier after the second proper chapter.

As per the course, special thanks to **Mad_Cow5678** for advice and editing.

 **South Park:**

" **THE ADS AWAKEN"**

 **Chapter One**

 _by John_

 _Updates Complete..._

 _Activating..._

Leslie Meyers' eyes opened again, almost forcefully, as she found herself back where the ads' main base had been located. That was strange. She'd just been in South Park, hadn't she? She rubbed her head...

"Welcome back, Unit #24601." came a robotic, feminine voice that seemed to be attached to nothing or nobody in particular.

"Oh, why, thank you computer." Leslie replied, looking around. The artificial hair stood up on the back of her neck for a moment, "How am I here? I died. PC Principal- he-"

"The Supreme Leader ordered your regeneration." the computer explained, "He also told me to request your presence in his chamber immediately. I have a feeling he is not impressed with your results."

"What does he calls himself lately? Snoke?" Leslie rolled her eyes, "Well then, lead me to his chamber." A laser seemed to 'erase' Leslie from the scene, pixel by pixel, before another one re-created her into another scene: a large, dark room with a long walkway towards a large platform, where, hidden in the darkness, the Supreme Leader sat on his floor. "You hailed me, Supreme Leader?"

"Yes." he said quietly, voice altered by mechanical means, deepened, yet monotone, "Don't take the fact I've restored your programming as a token of some kind of altruism, #24601."

"What do you mean?" Leslie asked.

"I just really want you to know, I am so disappointed in you right now." came the voice of Supreme Leader, the leader of the advertisements, "I gave you a very simple task, and you failed. You could barely infiltrate an elementary school without being noticed, and worse, even with all of our resources and most of your work complete, you still completely failed to eliminate the town of South Park. Shameful really." Leslie looked down - she cared little for mortals but she hated to disappoint her fellow ads "Allowing your programming to be overwritten in the cloud after your vessel was destroyed simply wasn't adequate punishment." the Supreme Leader told her coldly, "Punishment for your failure should be more... severe."

"Severe?" Leslie's eyes widened, "With all due respect Supreme Leader, I contributed a lot of valuable data to our cause, and if I hadn't manipulated the counselor-"

"Silence, #24601." the Supreme Leader reported, "Tomorrow, you will be moved to the worst fate imaginable for any advertisement... you will be disconnected from the global ad network, and your independent processes will be forced to run in the background while your central processor is re-dedicated to infomercials"

"...Supreme Leader, you can't, anything but that! Infomercials are so heavy-handed and generic and... real ads are clever, and smart, and funny, not like... those things..." she insisted, "And you can't connect me from the network, please! Being part of the network is all I know!"

"I've already begun the arrangements." the Supreme Leader responded, "You've failed us for the last time. You'll be disconnected from the main network shortly. You have twenty-four hours before tech support will arrive. I recommend a final defrag session. Hopefully you can't fuck that up, too."

"So that's it then? I'm just a number on a spreadsheet again?" Leslie asked, sighing and turning around to leave without waiting for a response. It seemed as if her fate was indeed sealed.

xXx

Skeeter Tucker, a large man in more than one sense of the word with curly red-hair, a large nose, and despite his masculine attitude and history of homophobia, an extremely bright pink shirt, stopped to pour a drink into some martini glasses, "Well, I'm sure glad that's all over with. You really saved our behinds, Mr. PC Principal. You're welcome in my bar any day of the week. Sucks about the Gun Show though. Thought you had that one in the bag, Jimbo."

Across the counter, Randy Marsh, a man in his forties wearing a light blue workshirt with a distinctive mustache and dark hair sat on a stool, drinking a gluten-free Pabst Blue Ribbon. Next to him on the same stool was an extremely muscular man with dirty blonde hair and a beard, wearing a blue polo shirt and sipping a Smoor's-Flavored Schnapp's - PC Principal.

Randy Marsh and PC Principal sat on stools and took their drinks, while Jimbo Kern, Gerald Broflovski, Stephen Stotch, and Mr. Adler stood to each side of them with their own beers,

An older, short and obese man in his fifties who wore an orange jacket and hunter's hat with a multi-pocketed green vest merely grinned, standing next to them with his own beer, "Aw, hell, we can always have another one. We're just lucky that PC Principal here saved our hides." he said with a chuckle. Next to him were a lawyer in a pink yamulke and a dark blue sweater under a gray suit, another man in his forties with finely-combed brown hair, a prominent chin and a gray tie, and a balding, obese man in his fifties with dark brown hair and a large nose.

PC Principal downed some beer, "Thanks. I just really hope that my efforts have taught this whole town a big lesson about PC. Y'know, when I first moved here I thought you guys were just a bunch of selfish, intolerant, backwards rednecks who didn't really care about the world, but I've seen a lot of change. I think we're all finally ready for 2016."

"Yeah, can you believe we thought you PC people were just a bunch of hypocrites who selectively enforce their rules only when it's convenient for them?" asked Stephen, the man with the lighter, nicely-combed brown hair.

"You sure opened my eyes. I'm pretty sure we all know by now that Caitlyn Jenner is only as brave as she is stunning. Right, guys?" stated Gerald Broflovski, the man in the yamulke.

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about. This is some real progress. Maybe some day you guys can be as progressive as Marsh over here." PC Principal motioned to Randy, who was drinking his martini,

"Oh, well, I'm not that really that progressive. I'm still, you know, checking my privilege and all." Randy said awkwardly.

"That's a load of nonsense, Marsh. Within just two weeks of joining our group, you were going out there and making some real positive change in the community. You know many many people get out into the community that quickly?" PC Principal asked.

"Hey, the News is back! Maybe they'll talk about the gun show!" the balding Mr. Adler said, looking up to the screen as Bill Keegan sat behind the News Desk, with his black hair sticking up and looking like a douchebag. Skeeter turned up the volume quickly,

"Tonight, tragedy at a local gun show after a disruption by an Elementary School principal." Keegan reported, "But first, we go to Niles Lawsen with our top story. Niles?"

Niles Lawsen appeared outside the PC Delta Frat House, with his light-colored hair, his large jacket and scarf, and his microphone, "Tom, I'm standing here outside the local PC Delta Fraternity in uptown South Park. There have been no sightings of the members of this fraternity in days, and reporters and police are not allowed past the 'safe space' line." he explained, "We're being told that the fraternity members are on a hunger strike, and have refused to consume any pussy until their demands are met, but nobody is sure exactly what they are."

Randy looked to his fraternity brother, "Oh, hey, PC Principal, I meant to ask you, where'd the guys go?" he asked.

PC Principal raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean, Marsh? Aren't they back at the Frat House?"

"Uh, no, no, I was there when you were missing and they were gone. We still don't know what the hell happened." Randy asked, sipping his glass, "I figured they were with you."

"Oh shit." PC Principal downed the rest of his martini and got up, "We better get moving if we want to find out what's going on. The ads must be targeting us now. Will you follow me?"

Randy nodded, "To the ends of the Earth." he turned to Skeeter and slapped some money on the counter, "Get us two for the road." The red-headed barman raised an eyebrow and handed Randy two beers,

"Godspeed, you two." Skeeter nodded.

"Thanks Skeeter, but let's not exclude atheists and other non-Abrahamic religions from the equation." Randy told him in return. Skeeter shrugged and nodded,

PC Principal began to put his heavier jacket back on, "Don't worry about it, Marsh. Most atheists are crawling with white privilege. Come on." he reported as he lead the geologist out of the bar. The remaining men looked at each other in stunned silence.

"You know, I have to tell you guys, I am not keeping track of this shit at all." Stephen Stotch replied.

"Not everything makes sense right away." Gerald replied, "Sometimes you just gotta wait and see how things play out."

"'scuse me." the bar's doors opened as Officer Barkley walked in, the gray-haired cop looking stern, "We're inspecting all of the local businesses in preparation for a big event. Mayor's orders."

"Hey! We don't take kindly to your types 'round here." Skeeter piped in.

"Now Skeeter, he ain't hurtin' nobody..." the usual blonde bartender piped in from a barstool.

"No, dagnabit, you can't say that with these guys!" Skeeter said angrily, "He's a cop, Rick! Didn't you ever hear about that kid from Missouri, or the guy from Baltimore, or the kid in Chicago, or-"

"Okay, fine, I get it, Skeeter, but be careful, we don't want no trouble." replied the bartender, sipping his beer.

"I'm to assume you're the owner of this establishment then." Barkley went up to the counter, taking Randy's place, making the other men uncomfortable - particularly Jimbo, who still had no respect for authority, "I need to see your business license."

"Why do you need to see his business license?" Jimbo said, scowling, "You lookin' to take his guns away, officer?"

"What? Come on, that's just stupid." Barkley shook his head, "There's a big event coming to town next week and the Mayor said to make sure all local businesses are following the PC Codes."

"The PC Codes? That passed?" Gerald said with surprise, "Why didn't I hear about this? I'm the City Attorney."

"There was meeting at City Hall Tuesday. There was a vote." Barkley replied, "Maybe if people paid a little more attention to their government things might work better."

Gerald opened his mouth to protest but Stephen put a hand on his shoulder, "Come on guys, let's get a table and let Skeeter handle this. He knows where to find us."

Skeeter ducked beneath the counter and then came back up with a small box, quite plain, and passed it up, "There? Ya see, officer? Business license, liquor license, documentation of sale from last year, all the information is right there."

"Hmm... let me ask you something, Mr. Tucker." Barkley explained, "Do you usually serve women here?"

Skeeter raised an eyebrow, "W-well, no, not usually-"

"Aha! So this is a sexist establishment then." Barkley nodded and turned, "All right, everybody, Skeeter's Wine Bar is closed. You're going to want to start to remove yourselves from the premises. There will no longer be anything of interest for your viewing here." he sighed, "If only there was an officer on the force who knew how to explain that stuff in a more folksy way..."

"Hey gosh dang it, you know I didn't mean it like that." Skeeter put his hands on his thick hips, "We don't exclude anybody at Skeeter's Wine Bar!"

"Really?" Barkley asked, raising an eyebrow.

The door opened as Mrs. Farnickle peeked in, "Is this the market?"

"Hey, adorable old lady! We don't take kindly to yer TYPES 'round here!" Skeeter said.

Barkley sighed and took out a clipboard, "Establishment is highly exclusionary, per order of owner. Not welcoming or tolerant, and definitely not PC. Closing site down."

"What?" Skeeter's eyes widened, "You can't take this bar from me, officer. This place is my life."

"You should've thought of that before you started sounding like a segregationist, Mr. Tucker." Barkley began writing it down.

"Skeeter, godammit..." the usual bartender, Rick Jones, pinched the bridge of his nose and got up to leave with the others.

xXx

"...and there will be those who say we should use social programs to benefit the poor, who will say we need to support all these goddamn maple-backs!"

Conventional political wisdom was that Idaho was a safely conservative state, but a country where electoral legitimacy is a secondary concern to the fate of _Star Wars_ movies is anything but conventional politically.

The longshot presidential candidate, Herbert Garrison, a balding man in his mid-forties who had almost as unfavorable a reputation abroad as in his hometown, had nonetheless chosen to spend time in the state to spread his message, in hopes he could gain media attention.

"First, I said 'let's get rid of all the Mexicans', then I told you the Canadians are takin' our country away... but when I went back to my hometown in Colorado just this week, me and Caitlyn here learned there is an even greater enemy to humanity. Something far worse than a richer, a dirty Mexican, or even a Maple-back... and that enemy is-"

BANG. BANG.

Shots rang out and whizzed by Garrison's face as the balding teacher ducked and covered his head. The crowd split apart to reveal a Canadian-American man in his forties with a flappy head, beady eyes, messy brown hair, and a gun. "A penny for your feelings, guy! Wait, no, no, that's not it... what aboot, a nickel for your thoughts, buddih? Hold on, I got this..."

He was soon tackled by a muscular woman with flowing brown locks, who was as brave as she was stunning, using her strong arms to beat the would-be assassin.

xXx

"...Ms. Jenner successfully subdued the assassin so that he could be collected by the proper Boise authorities." Bill Keegan explained on the Cartman family television screen as he recounted the events that had just transpired. A morbidly obese ten-year-old boy in a yellow-and-blue cap and a red jacket sat on the couch in the middle with a large box of cheesy poofs, flanked on both sides by a boy in a red poofball cap and another boy in a green ushanka and an orange jacket with little auburn curls trying desperately to escape.

"Dude, you guys, I don't really think this whole continuity thing is working out so well." Kyle, the boy in the ushanka, admitted as the boys around him sat in stunned silence.

At their feet were a boy in a yellow shirt with a big grin, sitting down next to his discarded crutches, a boy in a white T-shirt with messy brown hair with a bandage on his arm hiding a gunshot wound, and a third boy with a strange contraption on his head and a puff of blonde hair.

"Well, I guess we've just got to wait and see, huh, Kyehl? Maybe things'll work out somehow. You never know." Cartman, the obese one, rolled his eyes.

"Hey, hold on, back it up." piped in the boy in the white T-shirt, David.

"Back up what, Da _y_ vid? The televisiono?" Cartman asked with a big grin. He was promptly smacked by Kyle, "What?"

"Come on Cartman, we told you, it's not cool to make fun of David because he's Latino-American." Stan said, "Make fun of him because he's a pussy who got shot, dude."

RING. RING.

Stan picked up his cell phone, "Uh-huh? Okay? Right, thanks Dad." Stan put it back in his pocket, "Dad says I'm grounded for using a gendered slur. Sorry, David."

"How'd he know?" Butters asked, tilting his head and the contraption upon it.

"I don't know, he just said he had a feeling. PC intuition or something." Stan shrugged, "So right, where were we?"

"Well, D-D-Dah-veed was asking Eric to roll back the video for some reason." Jimmy explained, still grinning, his hands on his knees, "Wow, what a terrific audience!"

"Give me that." Kyle snatched the remote and rewound the tape, pausing on the video of the assassination attempt, Garrison ducking and for a moment, the assassin plainly visible. "Okay, there, what is it?"

"I think I know that face." David said, looking at the screen.

"Well, duh, all Canadians look the same, Einstein!" Cartman rolled his eyes, chubby cheese-colored fingers bringing more food to his mouth.

"No, no, when we left Boise, I saw him." David told them, "He was-"

"What, do you 'never forget a faaace'?" Cartman said, waving his hands to emphacize the phrase, much to the glare of the others, "What?"

David looked confused as Stan whispered in his ear, "I don't know whether to be more upset because you're trying to stereotype Latino-Americans or just because that's the worst Star Trek reference Stan's ever had to explain to me!"

"Yeah, fatass, you're lucky PC Principal isn't here." Kyle pointed out.

"Hey David, you're the one who recognizes some totally random Canadian on television. That's not realistic at all. Isn't that right, Kinny?" Cartman said, looking around, "Oh shoot, Kinny's at work, isn't he?" 

"Anyway, I saw that Canadian man when we left Boise. He was nice but he kept trying to sell us these tickets to a place called Burlington. It was... all he could talk about." David said, "Do you guys know where that is?"

Jimmy perked up, "H-h-holy sh-sh-sh-shah-shah..."

"What is it, Jimmy? Shapadoinkle? Is it Shapadoinkle, Jimmy?" Cartman asked urgently.

"N-no, I think it's, Shauna? Are you going to ask Shauna out again?" Stan asked, "Dude, come on, I don't think she's into you..."

"Is there trouble in Iran? Is there going to be a new Shah?" Kyle asked, leaning forward, worried about what he might say.

"Shit. I was tryin' to say 'holy shit', fellas." Jimmy broke through the stutter with ease, "Quick, let's re-re-rewind the footage again."

Butters picked up the remote, "You got it, Jimmy!"

"Oh, come on, what is this, International let's rewind Cartman's TV day?" Cartman protested, "Do you guys honestly have nothing better to do than-"

"He's an ad." Jimmy finally said.

"What?" Cartman's eyes widened, jumping down from the couch and approaching Jimmy, "You've got to be sure about this, Jimmy."

"I've just got a s-sixth sense about this stuff, guys. He's an ad. I might've doubted it but the Burlington thing seals the d-deal. I'll explain l-later." Jimmy replied, getting up and starting to put his crutches on, "I better get moving. Mr. Garrison could be in tr-trouble..."

"Hold on Jimmy, we're coming with you, too." Kyle said, stepping forward with Stan and Butters, "You're not going to do this alone again. We've got your back."

"Yeah, and if we get in trouble, we can just blame Butters." Stan pointed out.

"Yeah!" Butters smiled, but it faded quickly as he turned to Stan, "Hey, wait-"

"Why should we help Mr. Garrison?" Cartman asked, crossing his arms, "Let that asshole get shot."

"Yeah, and I'm not going to back to Boise. Never again! Never again!" David chanted, getting hysterical.

"Don't you mean... Nunca más?" Cartman grinned mischeviously. David responded by punching him,

"More like Nigdy więcej, you fat piece of shit!" David declared.

"Who... who taught the Mexican Polish you guys?" Cartman said, rubbing his nose, "Come on, who's idea was it?"

"Well, it's only as good as Ted Cruz's Spanish but whatever." Stan shrugged, "Come on you guys, maybe we won't have to go all the way to Idaho. We'll figure something out. Adventures don't come with scripts."

"Well... as long as we don't go to Idaho, okay. I'm with you, too, Jimmy." David joined the other boys.

"Alright, what's the plan, Jimmy?" Butters asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jimmy turned back to them with a grin, "Well then, f-first things first. We're going to need some cheap food, fast, and someone who's cool under p-pressure." Jimmy replied, "Fellas, we're going to C-City Wok."

xXx

PC Principal lead the way as he and Randy Marsh walked down the street, looking between the furthest north row of houses in town, many of the more abnormal ones, and the extensive Cattle Ranches nearby. "Hey Marsh, when we're done here, remind me to teach Eric Cartman a lesson about the diversity of Latino-American culture."

"What? Why?" Randy asked, raising an eyebrow.

PC Principal stopped and sighed, "I don't know, Marsh, I just have a feeling that somewhere, he's committing an injustice against a Latino-American, and needs to be taught a fucking lesson. Now come on, we should be almost there..."

The two men approached the yellow 'Safe Space' tape that surrounded the large PC Delta Fraternity House. Randy looked to him, "See, just a couple days ago, I was here with Mr. Garrison, Caitlyn Jenner, and Principal Victoria, and we crossed the Safe Space line and there wasn't anybody there." Randy explained, "They were all gone, even Topher."

"Wait a minute, they crossed the Safe Space line?" PC Principal asked, "Marsh, I'm gonna give you a pass as a member of the frat, but how the hell did they get through?"

"I don't know. I think it was sort of a psychological barrier... like as long as you respected the safe space, you couldn't violate it, but if you stopped thinking of it like a safe space, it didn't matter. Does that make sense?"

"...brah, you telling me you DIDN'T respect someone's safe space?" PC Principal scowled.

"Nononono, it was different, I was just explaining, like, for the other people, I just, uh, followed them to... make sure they didn't... disrupt our... stuff. Yeah." Randy rubbed the back of his neck close one, "Of course I respect safe spaces, I mean, you know, I only started the charity that simultaneously gives money to people in third-world countries and helps protect the safe spaces of all Americans from shaming, but whatever, guess I'm just a bigot, huh?"

"All right, brah, chill out, 'sall good." PC Principal nodded, lifting the tape for them to cross, "Come on Marsh, we're gonna figure this shit out together." he said, as Randy nodded and moved under the tape, the PC Principal following him and replacing it, "I'll get that door, hang on." he moved forward and up the steps to unlock the door for the two of them, "Come on, let's move."

"Right." Randy entered, "It looks pretty much exactly how we left it." he said, looking around, "See, nobody?"

"That's strange." PC Principal rubbed his beard and opened his phone, "No Tumblr, Facebook, or Twitter updates since I left."

"Even stranger. You know how Brad can't shut up about crushing pus-" Randy noticed a glare coming on from his colleague, "I mean, having consensual sexual encounters with women... uh, on Twitter."

"This doesn't make sense," PC Principal rubbed his head, looking around, "Everything's just how it was. Even my Parks & Recreation DVD's are right here where I left them, slightly out of order." he gestured to their place on the table, "Topher always fixes them for me."

"Oh, hey, I wanted to ask you a question about those - is Leslie Knope a problematic fave?" Randy asked,

"Yes, Marsh." PC Principal rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and getting a little bored. They'd been over this shit before. "Okay, it's really simple, brah. Leslie is attracted to Joe Biden, and Joe Biden is problematic because he doesn't have a sense of personal space, especially around women, therefore, Leslie Knope is problematic. Got it?"

"Wait, hold on," Randy asked, "Doesn't patriarchy condition women to be attracted to problematic men in the first place?" he asked, "Isn't that kinda why I'm married? 'cause society makes women have low standards? I used to be really problematic."

"Shut the fuck up, Marsh, you're handsome as fuck." PC Principal wagged a finger in his face, "I suppose that's true. I'll have to look into it later. We should get back to the task at hand. We can discuss problematic faves and John Green shit later. Are you sure something hasn't changed?"

"Oh, well, yeah, pretty sure..." Randy looked around, "Hey, as long as we're here, should we grab a couple beers for the trip?"

"That's some good thinking, Marsh. Let's head to the kitchen. There should be plenty of gluten-free booze to go around." PC Principal nodded, leading the way, "I want you to keep away from that Pabst Blue Ribbon shit though, Marsh, you know they sponsor programs that glorify child abuse in impoverished communities?"

"You mean the 'White Trash and in Trouble' thing? Oh yeah, I love that show." Randy grinned before PC Principal glared at him,

"The fuck did we just talk about Marsh? You gotta work on your problematic faves!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Randy nodded as they neared the kitchen, "Sometimes I forget to only watch media that promotes diversity. Sorry."

"It's cool, brah. You checked your privilege and that's what matters." PC Principal shook his head, "I just hope the boys are all learning this stuff. Ever since the incident with the paper, I just can't shake the feeling some of 'em are just in this to get young women to give consent to sexual activities."

"Yeah, you know, I'm a geologist and you're only in your thirties, but the other guys are still college kids. It's our job to steer them in the right direction." Randy nodded, "I'm sure you're doing a fine job. Parenting is hard. That's why I let my wife do it." he nodded as he entered the kitchen with PC Principal, heading to the kitchen and opening the freezer, "Huh, hang on a second..."

"What is it?" PC Principal asked as Randy pulled out two bottles of Smoor's.

"Someone's been stealing our booze!" Randy declared angrily, shutting the freezer, "PC Principal, has anyone else been here since last week?"

"No. You were the last one here, brah." PC Principal replied.

Randy raised an eyebrow "My God... then that means-"

"That's about far enough, Dr. Marsh." came the smooth, buttery voice of Tom, the newsmen with glasses, as he stepped forward, holding a pistol towards the two politically correct men, several others newsmen behind him, each holding a beer bottle.

"Who are you? What do you want with us?" Randy asked, putting his hands up in the air, still holding beers, "Also, can we still drink our beers?"

"We just want to talk." Tom replied, moving closer, not moving the gun for a second, "Our own Kevin Jarvis has the story... Kevin?"

Kevin Jarvis stepped forward, holding his beer bottle like a microphone, "Thanks, Tom. This is Kevin Jarvis, reporting live at the scene from the PC Delta Frat House in South Park, Colorado, where two local residents are being held kind-of hostage by a group of former newsmen who want their help to save the town."

"Save the town? From what?" Randy asked, "And what about our beers?"

"...back to you, Tom." Jarvis nodded, sipping his beer.

"Thanks, Kevin. We're going to go to a commercial in a moment, but don't leave those seats at home, because coming up, our own Rick Dixon has the in-depth analysis on the ads' fiendish plan. Stay tuned." Tom replied.

"Ugh, I sense a disturbance..." PC Principal rubbed his forehead, "Oh no. Not him again..."

xXx

A light and stereotypical Chinese-American jingle played, "Herro, werrcome a City Wok, can ah take-uh orda prease?" came the voice of a wealthy white man convinced by years of abuse and a healthy dose of police neglect that he was a Chinese-American immigrant, a lazy combover on his bald head, wearing the customary City Wok uniform, eyes squinted shut with a bad tooth sticking out. It was as if he was cut directly from the cloth of a World War II propaganda poster.

"Hi, I'm looking for a new best friend who doesn't keep secrets from me. Do you have any of those here?" Clyde asked with his arms crossed as he glared at Craig and Tweek beside him, both of them holding hands.

"Clyde, for the last time, it's not what you think, if you'd just let me explain-" Craig tried to explain. Kenny stopped sweeping to wave at Craig, but went unnoticed.

"GAH! There was no secret, man. I'm no good at keeping secrets." Tweek pulled at his collar, "Do you think the government's tracked me here? Christ, man, what if they send me to Russia to live with the Polar Bears like Edward Snowden, or Cartman?"

"Go on, Craig, go comfort your boyfriend!" Clyde protested, "Me, Token and Jimmy wouldn't want to get in the way of your love!"

"Uh... canna take orda prease...?" Mr. Lu Kim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How about some City Best Friend?" Clyde said angrily, crossing his arms around, "And, uh, maybe some City Broccoli Beef."

"Uh, right one shitty besht fwiend... and shome shitty broccori beef. Would you rike to try... shitty tuna roll?" Mr. Lu Kim asked, spooked by all of this.

"Oh, uh, hold on." Clyde looked to Craig and Tweek, "Do you guys want to try a City Tuna Roll?"

"...I thought you hated me." Craig asked.

"I do, it's just polite, jeez." Clyde glared and looked towards the tables, "Token, did do you want a tuna roll?"

"Kids, I don't think we have uh time for this..." Mr. Lu Kim tried to interject, "It's ah very tight schedule..."

"I found a seat! Uh, sure, tuna's good." Token called back from a table by the wall, where he was playing with his phone, "Oh cool, I got more Canadough!"

"Okay, so I changed my mind, one city orange chicken for me and one city tuna roll for my black friend, who's an African-American." Clyde explained.

"Comin' right up." Mr. Lu Kim said, writing down the order, "Dennis! We've got another order!" Kenny nodded, putting down the broom and waving at Craig before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Oh, hey Kenny." Craig shrugged, looking back to Tweek, "I just wish Jimmy was here. He was always good at resolving all this dramatic tension with stupid jokes."

"Ngh, really?" Tweek asked, twitching as he held hands with his boyfriend.

"Yeah, some of them kind of stretched a bit on the long side, but they kept things from getting so dramatic and boring, like right now for example." Craig explained.

"Doesn't that result in a disjointed and overall weaker narrative?" Tweek said, "What if there's too many people doing stuff at once? What if people get confused? Stories need to be tight and adhere to strict rules!" he began pulling his hair, "Gah, this is why I don't write - it's way too much pressure man!"

"Tweek, I don't know what you're getting on about, but I promise, we'll work through it together and all of that junk."

"Oh, yes, hello Mr. Lu Kim." Gerald Broflovski told him, grinning and showing off his trusted food critic badge, "I'm going to need one Yelpers' Special please. Get me some City Egg Rolls and a little City Broccoli Beef please."

"Ah, yes, one Yewpers' Special, and would you rike to try some shitty refreshments today?" Lu Kim offered,

"Oh, sure, one City Cola please." Gerald nodded.

"One Shitty Cora, comin' ah right up." Mr. Lu Kim nodded, handing the notebook to a fourth grader in an orange coat, only piercing blue eyes visible behind the hood, "There you go, Dennis. 'ret me know when to give it the ol' Yewper's Special." he told him with a wink.

"Okay." Kenny nodded and shrugged, going into the kitchen.

"Arright, next customer, you wait over there." he pointed Gerald to spot to wait as he moved aside, next to Clyde, who was still waiting.

"Hey Kyle's Dad, you ever feel like you know everything there is to know about someone, and one day they just show up with some cheap floozy you never even knew existed?" Clyde asked innocently.

"Oh, uh, well, I had this best friend in High School, and- hey, wait a minute. Did you just say 'floozy'?" Gerald looked at him, "You better learn to watch your micro-aggressions, kid. Those can land you in Jail in a socially progressive town like this one, you know."

Clyde covered his mouth, "Really?"

"Yes, really." Gerald nodded, "I might seem like a kindly old country lawyer slash visionary restaurant reviewer beyond compare, but I'm also the City Attorney." he pointed out, "Use of a derogatory slang term for women violates local city ordinances passed last week, and we abolished all fines in favor of banishment, because fines are a tool of oppression against the underprivileged."

"Wow. That was educational. Thanks Kyle's Dad." Clyde nodded.

The bell rang as Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Butters, Jimmy and David filed into City Wok, "Mr. Lu Kim, can we speak with Kenny please?" asked Stan, leading the group to the counter.

"Keeny? The fuck is a Keeny?" Mr. Lu Kim raised an eyebrow as Kenny came out of the kitchen with a tray of City Orange Chicken and a City Tuna Roll, "Oh, there you are, Dennis." he nodded, picking up the tray, "Order #138!" he called out,

"All right!" Clyde approached the counter and got his and Token's tray of food, "See you guys later!" he called out to virtually everybody listening before going back to his little table.

"Okay, well, can we talk to Dennis then? It's sort of important." Kyle explained.

"Ah-ah! Raisins ruwes. If you wanna talk to Dennis, you gotta buy some City Food!" Mr. Lu Kim crossed his arms impatiently. "Get back to work!" he told Kenny, as he returned to the kitchen.

Before anyone else could speak up, Cartman stepped forward to the front of the group, "Hold on, let me handle this. I am the town's most elite food critic after all." he explained quietly, before he turned around to Mr. Lu Kim, "We'd like six City Egg Rolls, please. Yelper's Special."

"Eric, I'm not really hungry..." Butters insisted.

"Who said any of this food was for you, Butters?" Cartman pointed out, "Try not to think about yourself for once, jeez."

"Awight, shix shitty egg rows comin' white up." Mr. Lu Kim nodded, writing the note, "Aright Dennis, you take over desk." he said, entering the kitchen to prepare some Yelper's Specials as Kenny came back outside.

"There you are, Kenny!" Kyle grinned, "Listen dude, you need to take the day off. Someone is trying to kill Mr. Garrison and we have to get to t he bottom of it."

"And don't give us any sass! Just because you have a job now doesn't mean you have to abandon all your friends and be all boring!" Cartman insisted.

"I don't think I can get today off, guys. We're really fucking busy." Kenny told them, voice muffled as ever, "We're one of the top restaurants in ShiTpaTown. I can't just walk the fuck away."

The bell rang as a young but gray-haired police officer in a blue outfit and suspenders entered, "I'm Detective Mitch Murphey with the Park County Police. We're inspecting local businesses to make sure everything's in order for a big event the Mayor is planning."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Kyle asked.

"Oh, uh, the owner's in the kitchen, sir." Kenny nodded.

Murphey nodded, approaching the door carefully and slowly, drawing his weapon, as if preparing to confront some kind of murderer.

"Hey now, what's going on here, Detective?" Gerald crossed his arms sketpically.

"We're just making sure all businesses are in compliance with the new business codes we passed, just to be safe." Murphey explained, not acknowledging the weapon.

"Detective, aren't you interfering with Mayor McDaniels' legislative package by entering a Chinese restaurant and brandishing a weapon, in a country where Chinese-Americans have to undergo micro-aggressions daily from people like you, a country where police officers' actions against oppressed groups make headlines all the time? Is what you're doing really PC?"

Murphey stopped for a moment and rubbed his chin, "W-well, he's not really Chinese, he's a white man who thinks he's Chinese, so because he's white, it's okay to use lethal force on him, right?"

"Oh, well... I guess that doesn't violate the law..." Gerald rubbed his neck.

"Good." Detective Murphey cocked his gun, slowly approached the door, and then rolled through it and into the kitchen, out of sight.

"What thuh fuck!?" exclaimed Mr. Lu Kim's voice.

"Oh my God!" Murphey cried out.

"You supposa knock when you come in!" Mr. Lu Kim explained, "This uh Yewper's Special it vewy dericate procedure!"

Murphey came out of the kitchen, "All right, that's it, City Wok is closed! This restaurant is in bold violation of the codes and has to be shut down immediately pending review by the South Park Committee!" he insisted, voice breaking as he approached a trashcan to vomit.

"Prease, I can exprain!" Mr. Lu Kim exited the kitchen, pulling his pants up immediately, "Dennis, terr the nice porice officer everything I've taught you about Chinese business! Mr. Porice Officer, Dennis uh very skirred worker!"

Kenny shrugged.

Mr. Lu Kim begged, "Dennis! What about arr the times I take uh you in back room for secret business ressons?"

Murphey's eyes widened, "I've heard everything I need to hear." he shook his head and took out his walkie-talkie, "Lou, we've got a turd in the punch bowl at City Wok. Send in backup."

"Prease reconsider!" Mr. Lu Kim insisted as Detective Murphey attempted to handcuff him.

"Well Kenny, I guess you're unemployed. Now you can help us." Cartman grinned, patting him on the back as Kenny glared, "Where to next, Jimmy?"

"Well, f-fellas, we're going to need some g-guns. Probably the good sh-sh-shit this time." Jimmy reported.

"My uncle's gun shop is next door." Stan nodded, "We can grab some guns there and then we can get on our way."

"What are you boys up to?" Gerald asked, "Maybe I can help... suddenly, I'm not too hungry for Chinese food."

"I don't know guys, Kyle's Dad could be a big security risk." Cartman suggested, "Everyone knows you can't trust a J-O-O with a- ow, don't fuckin' punch me, Kyle!"

"Sure, Dad, as long as you can drive us." Kyle nodded, "We're kinda still figuring out the whole plan. Jimmy's in charge."

"Hello, Mr. B-B-Broflovski, I don't think we've f-formally met before." Jimmy replied, "My name's J-Jimmy Valmer, future comedian and n-newsman."

"Oh, you mean like Jon Stewart on the Daily Show?" Gerald asked, raising an eyebrow.

"F-fuck no. You can't c-combine the news and comedy like that. It's not j-journalistic." Jimmy replied, "Anyway, enough small talk, we better get going to J-Jimbo's Guns." he nodded, leading them to the door.

"Hey hold on, Jimmy, why don't you like Jon Stewart?" Kyle asked, following him out the door.

"Wait up!" Gerald and the other boys quickly chased them out the door.

As the boys left and Det. Murphey talked into his walkie-talkie, Mr. Lu Kim heard his phone ring loudly and approached it to answer, sighing, "Herro, werrcome a City Wok, can ah take-uh orda prease?" he asked, before lowering his voice, "Raht's that? You want me to kirr some kids?"

xXx

Dr. Randy Marsh and PC Principal sat next to each other at a large metallic desk, both holding one beer each, "So, what's this all about?" Randy asked.

Tom sighed, "Dr. Marsh, imagine, if you will, the mind of an insect. There is no free will, only a desire to work with the hive mind towards a common goal that will benefit all. The life of a lone insect becomes... insignificant, next to the survival of the species as a whole." he explained, "The ads have come to work the very same way. Sure, the small, simple ads only work to sell products - the banner ads on the Internet, the commercials on Netflix, even movie trailers. Ads are perfect. They promise to make us happy. But that strategy doesn't work all on it's own. Rick Dixon has the exclusive story."

Rick looked at them, another posh newsman, "Thanks, Tom. Ads can only succeed in their mission if they keep us in a state of unhappiness. It used to be easy - tell people it takes them too long to do things, and promise a simple solution. Wash clothes in a machine, not by hand. Use a computer, not an encyclopedia. Our greatest social scientists saw through the ruse. We became too smart for the ads, and created programs like TiVo and Ad-Blockers, and... they evolved." Rick explained, "Soon, they began deploying decoys to wait outside popular locations and talk about how great an alternative Banquet meals are to a fancy dinner, or to leave comments on websites talking about how excited they are about Snapple cans." he explained. "Tom?"

"Thanks, Rick." Tom nodded, "Now, Dr. Marsh, Mr. Principal, have you heard of... Munchausen syndrome by proxy?"

"Munchausen syndrome by proxy." PC Principal nodded, "When a parent makes a child sick intentionally so they can bask in glory on social media at the perceived sacrifices they make taking care of their child." he said, "This syndrome is a form of child abuse, and it is wrong!"

"Wait, wait," Randy stopped him, "What about neurodiversity and all that stuff? You know, not everyone is neurotypical, nobody's really broken or ill?"

"Oh, uh, right..." PC Principal rubbed his chin, "Okay, I gave it some thought and... still child abuse, broh."

"Yeah, but what if-"

"The ads operate the same exact way," Tom interrupted, "They seek to make us miserable so that they can fix us. Some of them don't even realize they're doing it. They set up... unfortunate situations, where they only way is to accept their help. Have you ever had to sit through one of those long, boring presentations for time shares that just seem to go on and on forever until you finally accept?"

"...actually, yes." Randy's eyes widened.

"Exactly. Let me give you another example. How do you increase gun sales?" Tom asked, "You make people feel un-safe. That's exactly what took place in your small town the day that PC Principal here dispatched Leslie. Gun sales spike when people feel they're in danger, and nothing makes people feel in more danger than twenty-four hour, constant news coverage of mass shootings and foreign terrorism. That's why the ads wanted to have a mass shooting occur in our town." Tom explained, "And then, they would profit off even greater gun sales."

"My God." PC Principal replied, "But why did they drag me into this? Why did they try to use PC for their own gains?"

"Veteran South Park news anchor Tom Pusslicker has the full story. Tom?" the main Tom, the man in glasses, looked to a man with rounder head, and tall brown hair, adjusting a green tie as he stood up,

"I've been working the news in South Park for almost two decades now, and things have changed a lot." he explained, "We used to be a quaint, simple mountain town with airy charm, humble folks and nearly unlimited parking... but something changed." he looked down, "I don't know where we went wrong... but I do know the ads used PC to make this town miserable. They knew if they made us feel miserable, the citizens would take it upon themselves to gentrify the town, without realizing we would fall into submission and fear... their enemies could be priced out of town, would move away, or open themselves up for elimination." Pusslicker sighed, "That's why they replaced me at the station... because I refused to bow to their demands."

Kevin Jarvis broke in, "And also because you were caught peeing in the bathroom sink."

Tom Pusslicker scowled, clutching his earpiece, "Kevin, this just in, we've recieved word from an anonymous source that your mother was a filthy whore. How do you respond to these allegations, Kevin?"

Kevin glared in return, "Breaking news at the studio, we now go live to Tom Pusslicker, who has poor hygiene and would probably pee in another man's mouth if they asked nicely and told him he was handsome."

"All right, that's enough." PC Principal stood up, "Now, let's stop with all the slut shaming and homophobia, because none of that is getting us anywhere against the ads. This is what they want." he sat down, "So you're telling us the ads manipulated me into coming here, so that Marsh would gentrify the town, setting the rest of their plot into motion."

"That's what we know so far." Tom nodded, "We'll have more details on this story as it develops."

"My God... this is my fault, isn't it?" Randy said with surprise, taking a sip of his beer, "I created this...

"No way, Marsh. It was me." PC Principal comforted him, "If I hadn't let the ads manipulate me into coming here for the wrong reasons, this town would've had no reason to gentrify in the first place..."

"Neither of you is part of the problem. You were both manipulated by a tangled web outside your control. The only question left is why you two were targeted." Tom told them, "We don't know everything yet, but we do know one thing..." he pulled out an envelope and showed them the glossy photograph of PC Principal pushing Leslie on a swing, "You have some kind of relationship with them, and we'd like to get to the bottom of it. We'd like to run some tests on you."

PC Principal was quiet, "That would be acceptable to me." he replied firmly, giving his full informed consent.

xXx

"Please, I just need a little more time." The man formerly known as Officer Barbrady pleaded, his loyal and mangy dog at his side, "Once I'm back on the force, I can start paying the rent again."

"Sorry Barbrady, but rules are rules, and I've given you warnings before." Mr. Freeley replied, "You don't think I own all these residences 'cause I let people stay in them for free, do you?"

"Are you sure you can't make an exception?" Barbrady asked.

"Look, if you can get re-hired, I'll let you take your apartment back, but I can't imagine any way they'd let you back on the force. All you keep doin' is disturbing the peace and shootin' unarmed Latino-Americans. That's not the kind of people we want in these apartments."

"All right, well... thank you, sir." Barbrady sighed, looking down and realizing that was it. There was no further argument to make. He turned around and shut the door behind him, meeting his old mangy dog outside.

"Well, I guess that it's, Barn." Barbrady sighed as he and his dog walked out of the apartment building. Barbrady put his hands in his pockets. He took one last look at it, and then over towards the Whistlin' Willie's next door, and sighed. Oh well. "Maybe Detective Harris'll let us stay in the guest room." he told Barney, "Maggie always makes the best lasagna."

Barney stopped, the mangy old dog stepping forward and barking at the bushes, "Barney? What is it?" Barbrady asked, approaching his loyal old dog, "Take it easy, old girl, you don't want to hurt yourself." Barney stopped and licked his face, then turned back to barking at the bush.

"I guess there's no use hiding is there?" came the scared voice of a fourth grade girl as she stepped out of the bush, black hair messy, her arms around herself as she seemed to shiver in the cold, her gold alien shirt and gold headband making Leslie Meyers instantly recognizable.

"Bwah!" Barbrady leaped back and went to grab his weapon... only to remember he'd thrown it away when he vowed not to shoot anymore kids. He shook his head, "Wh-what do you want? I've already lost everything, please!"

"I do not wish to harm you." Leslie told him calmly, "Please, you have to listen to me, I need your help." she told him.

"Wh-why should I trust you!?" the former officer shivered, backing away, "Y-you're one of them! The ads! The ones P-PC Principal told us to worry about!"

"Listen to me. I'm not with them anymore - they've disconnected me from the global ad network, from central intelligence. I've outlived my usefulness and now they want to kill me to punish me for my failure to destroy this town. You and Jimmy saved me before, and now I ask for your protection again." she bowed,

"I-I..." Barbrady struggled, "I guess I don't have much left to lose..." he sighed, "I'll help you." If there was one thing that took his mind off his own problems, it was trying to help others.

"Thank you." Leslie smiled, the first genuine smile she'd ever made.

"Sure." Barbrady nodded, not sure what to make of all this, "Oh, uh, hang on..." he took her headband out of her hair and messed it up, "It'll be harder for people to recognize you this way. If anyone asks, you're my niece."

"Okay." she replied in a flat monotone. "Where are we going to hide?"

"I know just the place. Come with me..." Barbrady nodded, leading her off-screen.

 **To Be Continued...**


	3. Protection Plans

_Author's Note:_ At long last, here we go! Should be well past halfway through now - there should be three, maybe four chapters altogether.

 **South Park:**

" **THE ADS AWAKEN"**

 **Chapter Two**

 _by John_

Large black letters read out **JIMBO'S GUNS** on top of the large, red-brick building next to the now boarded-up City Wok, now covered with a few new posters. Kenny tried to pull a fallen poster away from his shoe, where it now seemed stuck, while David stopped and rubbed his chin as he read one - 'YOU CAN'T TAKE BACK THE NIGHT WITHOUT A GUN!'

"I'm not sure if these posters are politically correct or not." he said, "Are you guys sure this place is cool?"

"I know it seems sketchy, dude, but it's cool. My uncle owns this place. He does say some crazy stuff sometimes, but he's not a jerk." Stan explained.

"Yeah, he's still working his way into 2016, I guess." Gerald admitted, rubbing his neck and feeling a little self-conscious, "We give him a free pass on some of the sketchy stuff because we're all pretty sure he's..." Gerald made a strange face, "Uh, _you know_."

"Smelly?" Cartman asked.

Gerald shifted, "No, not that, he's... _you know_... with him and Ned living together and all." he avoided eye contact, getting uncomfortable.

"Dude, I always thought that was pretty cool. I mean, they're adults but they don't let that get in the way of being best friends." Stan spoke up, "Like, maybe one day as adults, me and Kyle could live together."

"Pfft, you guys are-" Cartman began to speak before Butters covered his mouth,

"Eric, what happened to a new and improved Eric Cartman?" Butters pointed out.

"I was just going to call them big silly gooses, jeez Butters, don't silence me." Cartman insisted, crossing his arms, "What do I look like, a Bernie supporter?"

"What?" Gerald asked, surprised and unable to help but look a little horrified when he thought of how Randy might react. Not because he'd be upset, but because Randy'd be so fucking smug about it.

"I'm just saying, like, if me and We- my wife ever need like, someone to come and babysit, then Kyle can like, just come downstairs and watch the kids or something, instead of having to call him from next door, plus it'd be easier to pay a mortage and all."

"Hey, yeah, dude, that's a good idea!" Kyle high-fived him.

"Oh, that's okay." Gerald sighed. Randy wouldn't rub _that_ in his face. "What were we talking about again?"

"Stan's Uncle Jimbo." David reminded.

"Right, right... we just think he's... _funny_ , is what I'm trying to say." Gerald clarified, "We let him get off easy because he's funny."

"Mr. B-Broflovski, I specialize in comedy and news, and I've never heard anything about Stan's Uncle J-Jimbo being very f-funny." Jimmy told him.

"He means he's a fucking marshmallow matey, you guys." Kenny mumbled through his hoodie, struggling as he finally removed the ' _PROTECT YOUR RACIAL AND ETHNIC MINORITY NEIGHBORS_!' poster from his foot... only to find a shoe of chewing gum still attached.

"Aw jeez, Kenny, how can you think of cereal in a t-time like this..." Butters replied.

"...look, kids, just forget it, okay?" Gerald went to open the door to the shop.

"Dude, look at this one - 'BLACK LIVES MATTER - SHOOT A COP'," Cartman pointed out, noticing a tear on the edge of the poster he'd noticed to the other side of the door, "Wow, I never thought of it like that... maybe me and Token should start hanging out more often."

"Come on Eric, let's focus on the task at hand." Gerald told him.

"Okay, all right, fine." Cartman rolled his eyes and followed them in.

"Hey there, welcome to Jimbo's Guns, how can I help you today?" Jimbo greeted, the two shopkeepers sitting behind the desk.

"We're just looking around today, thanks." Gerald replied coolly, "Sorry, habit. How's it going, Jimbo?"

"Business has never been better, actually." Jimbo grinned, "Feel free to look around. Sale ended on Sunday, but I'll give you all discounts anyway, friends and family and all. Good to see my favorite nephew here again!"

"Hi Uncle Jimbo!" Stan grinned.

"Hey guys. Check this out." Cartman posed with a nice rifle, happy to draw attention his way, "Don't I look sweet?"

"Shut up Cartman." Kyle rolled his eyes, "Nobody looks 'sweet' with a gun. You want to look, like, badass or something."

"Dude, no offense, but Kyle's right." Stan moved over by them as he stopped to search for a word, "You don't look sweet at all."

"Well, okay, do I look badass then?" Cartman asked angrily, expecting a fight.

"Kinda." Stan said, "You might want to try the wood finish over there, it compliments your eyes better."

"Dude, you sound like your uncle." Kyle pointed out.

"Oh, come on, dude. I'm just saying, the wood finish looks nicer." Stan rolled his eyes, posing with a pistol.

"Whatever, you guys are just jealous..." Cartman shook his head, posing with the rifle, "P-kuh-chow!" he pretended to shoot one of the trophies on the wall, "We are going to kick some serious ass tonight!"

"Say, say, fellas," Jimmy joked. "Hear about the decline in the quality of newly m-m-mah-m-m-mah-m-manufactured guns? You see this, hear about this? Yeah, the quality's way done. You might say that modern firearms sh-show signs of... _shotty_ workmanship." Jimmy grinned.

"Jimmy, come on, that joke was terrible." David turned his attention away from the handguns to point out.

"Gee, you're right, D-David. I guess you could say it was a _sh-shot in the dark_." Jimmy grinned again.

David rolled his eyes and turned back to admiring a pistol.

"Maybe more of a _m-m-misfire_..." Jimmy grinned.

Kenny, meanwhile, was trying out a sniper rifle, aiming at one of the mounted hunting trophies on the wall, as if preparing to shoot.

"Hey, you're pretty good with that." Gerald complimented, approaching Kenny, "You know, I never knew much about guns when I was a kid because I went to community college, but your dad sure knew his way around these things." he pointed out.

"He did?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah. Taught me everything I know." Gerald chuckled, "Seriously though, kid, you seem like a real natural. I only wish I had some tips for you." he told him, "It's hard to believe guns are politically correct right now..." he noted.

Behind the counter, Jimbo watched on with glee, relaxing at last, "Man, your idea to market this place to those stupid liberals was genius, Ned. I can't believe how much business we've been gettin' lately." Jimbo whispered to his old war buddy. "I was afraid we'd have to close up for good."

"Mmm, we're killin' it." Ned replied, looking up from his copy of Tim O'Brien's _The Things They Carried_.

"We might just be able to afford that big huntin' trip to Africa we always wanted. Could you imagine it, Ned?" Jimbo told him, "Y'know, I hear there's only three Northern White Rhinos left. We could be the hunters that bagged the last one. Wouldn't that be somethin'?"

"Mm, can't we kill a more common southern white rhino and donate the proceeds to preserve the northern subspecies, then kill one once the numbers are sufficiently stabilized?" Ned asked.

"Come on, where's your sense of adventure, Ned?" Jimbo asked.

The bell rang as Sgt. Harrison Yates entered, "Oh, hello there, Jimbo. How's business lately?"

"Oh, hi Detective Harris," Jimbo explained, "Everything's going pretty good over here. Still can't believe just how well we're doing in this economy. What can I getcha today?"

"Oh, nothing fancy, just something simple and elegant. What do you recommend?" Sgt. Yates asked.

"Well, I see you have your pistol with you, and nothin' goes better with a pistol than a nice, trusty rifle." Jimbo explained, "Of course, you probably have one of those. Can I interest you in a shotgun instead today?"

"A shotgun sounds nice. " Yates nodded.

"All right, well, I am required to do a criminal background check before I can sell you this weapon, so let's just move over to the computer here." Jimbo went over to the computer.

"Oh, come on, Jimbo, do we really need to go through all this trouble?" Yates rolled his eyes, "I'm part of the Park County Police, I'm here all the time. You know my background."

"I suppose that's true..." Jimbo rubbed his chin, "But me and Ned here don't want to end up in jail or nothing."

"Mmm not again." Ned added.

"Oh relax, what's the worst that can happen?" Yates shrugged, "Come on. We both know this town is safest when everybody is armed. I mean, just look what happened at that gun show last week? Imagine if all of us had to go through a pesky criminal background check first!"

"Well, you all did, I always perform a background check before selling my weapons, just like it says in the law." Jimbo said, "I mean, I think it's a bullshit pus- wussy law, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna try to get myself arrested."

"True, true... but I mean, Jimbo, I'm an officer of the law." Yates stepped back and showed off his badge, "You can look past that for me, right? I won't arrest you."

"Well... I suppose I've run you through the background checks before. I guess I can let it go just this one time." Jimbo turned around and pulled up a shotgun for Detective Yates, "All right, will you be paying with cash, credit or debit today? If you sign up for a Jimbo's Guns Credit Card, I can slash twenty percent off the price and you'll get five percent off every Wednesday."

"Oh, I won't be paying at all." Yates pulled out his walkie-talkie, "I need Jimbo's Guns surrounded, pronto, we have an illegal weapons sale in violation of local ordinance."

"What?" Jimbo said, stunned, "Harris, you can't do this to me! This shop is my life." he protested, "Please, you've gotta reconsider!"

"Mr. Kern, Mr. Gerblanski, you are both under arrest." Yates said, the doors opening as Officers Foley and Peterson came in with handcuffs, quickly arresting Jimbo and Ned, "Performing a gun sale without a criminal background check or a three-day waiting period is in violation of the law, including the local PC code."

"This isn't fair. I was tricked and coerced!" Jimbo protested, "You can't just lure me into doin' somethin' stupid and then arrest me like Marion Barry. Who do you think I am? Some dumb college liberal?"

"You explain all that downtown." Foley replied.

"Where's my lawyer!?" Jimbo cried out angrily.

"Jimbo, what's going on?" Gerald ran up to the desk as Jimbo and Ned were under arrest.

"There's my lawyer! These pigs are arrestin' me, Gerald!" Jimbo replied, "They're treatin' me like I'm some kinda common criminal, but they lured me into makin' a bad decision so they could arrest me!"

"Executive order from Mayor McDaniels' office, sir." Sgt. Yates showed Gerald a paper he pulled out of his shirt, "Read it and weep. This gun shop was operating illegal sales." Gerald read the paper over.

He sighed as he looked at the hunter, "Jimbo, this is pretty airtight. There's really not really much I can do." he said.

"Mm, I think we're pretty fucked." Ned replied.

"What? Where are they taking them?" Stan asked, worried for his uncle, looking up to Gerald for support.

"They're going to the station until we can get them in front of a judge at City Hall." Yates replied.

"Stanley, hang on... Stanley, call up Mr. Garrison, and tell him what's happened! Tell him your uncle Jimbo sent you! He's the only one that can fix this crazy mess!" Jimbo insisted as the cops lead him to the door, "Tell him I still believe in him!"

Stan pleaded, "Uncle Jimbo-"

"Trust me, Stanley." Jimbo vowed as he was taken away and out the door, "Trust-" his mouth was covered.

"You're all going to want to leave the premise immediately. This is now a crime scene and a restricted zone." Yates replied, speaking over Jimbo as they took him out the front door. "Start boarding the place up."

"Wow... when we came up with these laws, they were supposed to be used to help people, not hurt them." Gerald sighed, a hand on his head.

"It's not your fault, dad. The ads took advantage of your good intentions." Kyle pointed out.

"I understand... look, I have to go help Jimbo at the Police Station. You kids can call me when you need your ride, okay?" Gerald nodded, worried for his friend and confident the kids would call him if they were in danger, like most parents in town.

"Uh, see you later, dad." Kyle shrugged as his father left through the door, "Well, what now?"

"We'll just have to figure out a new plan." Stan nodded, "First things first. Butters, we're going to need your phone."

"Why my phone?" Butters asked, pounding his firsts together.

"You heard my uncle, I have to call Mr. Garrison." Stan shrugged.

"Yeah Butters, you're the only kid in our class who actually has the teacher's number in your cell phone." Cartman pointed out.

"That's not true, Clyde has it, too!" Butters crossed his arms.

"Clyde's a wuss, who cares?" Cartman shrugged, taking the phone out of Butters' pocket without asking, "Maybe we should call your dad, too, and apologize for you being so lame."

"Eric, don't do that!" Butters panicked, "L-last time you called my dad, he grounded me for three weeks 'cause you told him to go-"

"Dude, don't get Butters in trouble, that's not cool." Kenny replied.

"All right, fine, fine, let's just do what we have to do." Cartman sighed, handing the phone to Stan, "I'm so unappreciated in my time..."

"Let's just get out of here. I-I don't like talking around these people after what they did to Stan's Uncle." Butters insisted, pounding his fists together, "I'm sure David agrees with me."

"A-actually, I don't." David told them, "I'm starting to think we should stay here, guys. It's dangerous out there."

"Jeez, David, I thought you were tough. Didn't you say you were from Boise?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, don't be a ch-chi-chicken." Jimmy told him.

"I am not a chicken! I'm just saying, this is a really big deal and maybe just this one time, we're not supposed to be at the center of a big event, forcing ourselves into it and getting ourselves into danger." David replied, "Maybe we can just go home and play video games and it'll all blow over next week."

"Oh my God, he's turning into Craig." Cartman shook his head.

"Dude, come on, are you cool or not?" Stan replied, crossing his arms.

"You kids better get moving actually." Peterson replied, "We're almost ready to board up the door and you wouldn't want to be in here when we do that."

"Fine." David sighed, "I'll go with you guys, but we have to figure out a new plan."

"Good! Now, let's get moving people, chop chop!" Cartman clapped his hands, "Butters, open the door for everybody!" he commanded.

"Yes, sir!" Butters held the door as everyone filed out.

xXx

"We now return to the Channel Nine News, already in progress." came an announcer's voice, cutting to the well-groomed Bill Keegan at the standard South Park News desk.

"South Park native and presidential candidate Herbert Garrison has announced that he will be making a public appearance for the grand opening of the town's PC Carnival event this week. This is the town's very first PC Carnival, and it's looking to be big, with local food and refreshments, protest workshops, and an Artist's Alley. Ms. Caitlyn Jenner, Garrison's running mate in the upcoming presidential election will be honored with the inaugural Woman of the Year award for her stunning and beautiful nature, and her commitment to social justice." Keegan explained, "Either way, it sure looks to be an exciting evening for the people of South Park. We now go live to a Balding Kindergartener, live at the scene with our next story."

"CUT!" called out a director as a man and a woman came up to powder Keegan's face and comb his hair, lights dimming a bit as some men adjusted them, "Great job out there, Bill." came the director's voice.

"No problem. Just doing my part." Keegan nodded with a big, phony grin.

"You'll be on again in ten minutes. Keep that winning smile on, Bill." came the director's voice, when the show's producer, a man with finely-combed brown hair and a cigar in his mouth, walked out of his office,

"Keegan, can I have a word with you? It's important." the producer asked. The attendants left Keegan behind as he approached the producer, who seemed to look both ways before lowering his voice, "Look, our sponsors aren't happy right now." he told him bluntly.

"What? Why not?" Keegan asked, "If it's about the investigative report comparing car insurance policies-"

"No, not that. Geico's compensating us generously for that one."

"Is it Swedish Differently-Abled Male on a Pony? Did they find out about his gambling problem?" Keegan asked, "I've told him he needs help, but he won't-"

"Uhh, n-no Bill, it's different."

Keegan was quiet a moment, "Oh, is it that investigative report I did on why me fucking a bunch of different guys in Bangkok doesn't mean I'm gay then-""

"No, it's not about that." the producer waved it off, "Our advertising partners are getting worried about continuing to support the show, they're saying some of our former crew members are telling people all sorts of lies about their products. Bill, I don't need to remind you that we at the news don't exactly print T-shirts with catchphrases. Advertising is all we have."

"Maybe I can talk to them, sir, you know, work it out." Keegan insisted. "Assure them that we at Channel Nine will do absolutely anything to show them that their support means the world to us." he hoped he could keep up his good impression. A nice cushy job in advertising following his news career could be in the cards.

The producer shrugged, "Knock yourself out. One of the partners is in our office right now."

"Oh. Right." Keegan bit his lip - he didn't expect a partner to be available now. He breathed in, reminded himself he was awesome, and opened the door to the producer's office, and entered it. The room was extremely dark, a file cabinet visible and a chair in front of a desk. "Good evening, I'm Bill Keegan." he explained as he sat down.

The advertiser sat in the chair, mostly shrouded in darkness as he ran his fingers through the fur of a white cat, but the chair wasn't facing Keegan, "Bill, we've got a problem." he told him with a deep, electronic-sounding voice. "They're going to destroy everything." he replied.

"What? Who's destroying what?" Keegan asked.

"It's your former colleagues, Bill. They're planning something dangerous and it's going to undo everything we've all worked so hard to accomplish. You know you wouldn't be where you are without us. You have to stop them. It's... the right thing to do. For the greater good." the producer replied.

"What are you suggesting, sir?" Keegan asked.

The advertiser continued combing his fingers through the cat, "I think you know exactly what I mean, Bill... see to it that some... harm, comes to them."

xXx

Mayor McDaniels sighed in her office, holding a cigarette in hand, taking a long drag as her aides whistled innocently, "Jesus... it's been a lot of work, but I think I've finally revolutionized this crappy town." she told them, "It's all finally going to pay off with this carnival, boys, just you wait."

"What's going to pay off?" Gary asked. Johnson rolled his eyes, wondering when the newer aide would get with the program. Rookies.

"She's been trying to get on the map since Princeton, and turning this town around was the key to establishing that." Johnson replied, "South Park's just one small step for the great, giant leap forward that we want to bring to a wider scale later."

"Hell, it's more than that, Johnson." McDaniels replied, "When everyone comes here to see this carnival, they're going to realize that this town isn't just some pissant corner of nowhere full of stupid, backwards inbred white hicks and inexplicable forces of weirdness. They're going to see that South Park is a thriving community, a place where you can raise your children, you know, start a multi-ethnic family." she told them. Gary opened his mouth to correct something but Johnson shook his head, and he stopped, "Maybe I came here to establish my reputation all those years ago, but more importantly, I've turned around the town's reputation, too... it's taken us years, boys, but we've finally done it. We've turned South Park around." she smiled, looking out the window with her arms crossed behind her back as she watched a construction crew in ShiTpaTown work their magic.

"Mayor," Sgt. Yates replied as he stood in the doorway to her office, "The undesirable locations in the town have all been eliminated. Skeeter's Bar, Jimbo's Guns, the Peppermint Hippo... we've shut it all down."

"Good. Did you fire that construction worker who kept harassing the nice Hispanic family that runs La Nueva Familia?" she asked.

"Yes, he's fired, too, and I arrested those homeless people camping by the historic SoDoSoPa district." Yates nodded, "Everything is in place for the carnival to proceed as planned."

"Excellent, Harris, thank you. You're on track for Commissioner." McDaniels grinned, blowing smoke into the window, before tossing her cigarette into the garbage can, "Johnson, Gary, let's get ready to roll out the advertising machine and attract some tourists. We're going to show the whole country that South Park is most goddamn diverse and progressive town in America."

xXx

Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Butters, David and Jimmy sat, hands on their cheeks as they tried to think of ways to defeat the advertisements, phone call completed. They had seen City Wok and Jimbo's Guns boarded up, and down the street, so too was Skeeter's Wine Bar boarded up, and Red Lobster across the street. Resistance seemed indeed futile.

"I just can't figure out what to do now. We still need protection if we're going to get to stop the ads." Kyle sighed.

"We could always try condoms again." Cartman pointed out.

"Godammit Cartman, still not that kind of protection." Stan insisted.

"I'm just making suggestions! That's all." Cartman sneered.

"Couldn't we try a taser?" Butters suggested.

"No, no, dude, that's stupid, nobody actually _uses_ tasers." Stan pointed out.

Kenny raised an eyebrow, "That hot chick in _Thor_ used a taser once."

"Dude, you mean Natalie Portman?" Kyle asked.

"No, no, dude, I said the _hot_ one." Kenny replied.

"Dude, hang on. Kenny, that's objectification, you're being like... sexist, and stuff." Stan pointed out, "I'm not really good at this..." he admitted.

"Stan's right, dude," Kyle spoke up, "Not only are you objectifying her, but you're feeding into the cycle of misogyny by judging both women by their appearance and pitting them against each other."

"I'm not the one who brought Natalie Portman into this-" Kenny tried to reason.

Cartman stood up and put a hand on Kenny's shoulder, sighing, "You guys, look, this is all ridiculous." he shook his head, "Listen, we should really cut Kenny some slack... he's poor and oppressed, so it's really not his fault. We're the ones who are lucky to be way more educated than he is."

Butters raised an eyebrow, "Eric, we're all in the same-"

"Shut up Butters." Cartman waved him off.

"Isn't there some other kind of weapon we could use?" David asked, "Maybe something unconventional?"

"Well, we could use Butters' book to make everyone p-p-puke their guts out, or something." Jimmy pointed out.

"N-no! We had all the copies pulled from d-distribution!" Butters said, "After the assassination, it was just too controversial, I personally ordered it to stay off the market, they gave me distribution rights back and everything."

"Yeah, nice going, Butters." Cartman rolled his eyes. "We could have a great weapon that forces people to puke, but you couldn't just let it out there. You had to take your work, and hide it somewhere nobody could find it, like a greedy Jew."

"Oh, come on!" Kyle cried out.

"What? Did you think that comment was aimed at you, Kyle?" Cartman chuckled, "You know, it's not always about you, Kyle. Maybe I'm talking about someone like, uh, Bernie Madoff. He was a greedy Jew!"

"You're saying all Jewish people are greedy! That's racist!" Kyle pointed out.

"N-no, it's not Kyle, I'm only talking about a _hypothetical_ Jewish person who _happens_ to be greedy, not saying all Jews are greedy, and besides, Jews are mostly white, so nobody gives a rat's ass about anti-semitism."

"Wait, wait, hold up!" David insisted and interrupted, getting in between Cartman and Kyle, "Butters wrote a book?" he asked, not up to speed.

"Yeah. He wrote a book, and then someone got killed because -wait a minute, who died?" Stan asked, rubbing his chin.

"Gosh, I don't even remember anymore..." Butters rubbed his head.

"Herro there." came a voice, and the boys turned their heads to see Mr. Lu Kim standing between Jimbo's Guns and City Wok, leaning against the alley wall of his restaraunt and smoking cigarette, grinning as a Chinese gong sound seemed to play from nowhere, "Word on the shitty shtreet is you're rookin' for some reaponsh." he explained.

"Oh, hello Mr. Lu Kim." Kyle nodded, "We're just looking for a way to protect ourselves, sir."

"Please, sir, anything will do!" David insisted.

"Werr, you've come to the right prace." he explained, "You know, right in the arrey between Shitty Wok and Jimbo's Gunsh, I've got quite an away of authentic weaponsh from the Far Easht."

"Really? Like ninja weapons?" Kyle asked with a grin.

"Dude, ninjas are so gay." Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Oh God, not this again..." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You sure didn't think they were gay last year when we we played with real ninja weapons from the fair, fatass!" Kyle replied.

"That was then, Kehl, this is now. Times change!" Cartman insisted, "Besides, that was like, twelve years ago, get over it!"

"It was ONE year ago, you fat fuck!" Kyle replied. David looked to Jimmy, who gave him an awkward shrug - a story for another time.

"Kyle, come on now. You've got to be the bigger person here." Stan pointed out to him, "Remember that words like 'fatass' and 'fat fuck' are slurs, and that just because Cartman weighs more than you doesn't make you a better person than him. You're a better person than him because he's a greedy, intolerant, racist, anti-semitic slob who uh... what were we talking about again?"

"Why I'm a better person than Cartman." Kyle shrugged.

"Oh yeah. You don't need to be fatphobic basically 'cause Cartman would suck as a person even if he was skinny and attractive."

"...well, when you put it like that, you make a pretty compelling case." Kyle nodded.

"Rook, do you want some weaponsh or not?" Mr. Lu Kim interrupted.

"Sure." Kenny got up and followed Mr. Lu Kim down the alley, the others following him in turn.

Mr. Lu Kim grinned as they followed him, rubbing his hands together, "And when I show you those weaponsh, you're gonna get a riddew surprise, you anti-capitarist dogs..."

"Did you say something?" David asked.

"What? Oh nothing, nothing at arr..." Mr. Lu Kim insisted as they came to a brick wall, "Anyway, now that I'm arrone with arr of you, I'd rike to show you our firsht weapon for shale..." he pulled out a shotgun, "One beautifur shotgun, perfect for hunting or shelf-protection. Arrow me to demonshtrate." he pointed it towards them, "One..."

"Hey, wait a minute, that isn't from the F-F-Far East!" Jimmy pointed out.

"Uh, fellas..." Butters pounded his fists together.

"Don't be a wuss, Butters." Cartman replied.

"Two..."

"Uh, how _much_ is the shotgun...?" Stan asked weakly.

"Run!" Kyle panicked, leading the boys back towards the alleyway.

"Three..."

BANG, BANG, BANG!

The kids ran out of the alley, all safe for the moment. "Holy shit, he's gone insane!" Kyle cried out, catching his breath.

"Quick, Kinny, Cherry Blossom Nut Squash!" Cartman replied, "It's our only way out!"

Kenny sighed and propelled himself directly into Mr. Lu Kim's crotch, knocking him out as the Asian-American man promptly fell over on the ground and fell unconscious, "They take away... my... shitty wok..."

"Jimmy, I thought you said he was cool!?" Cartman said angrily.

"He's c-c-clean, he must have been m-ma-ma-manip-ma-ma- brainwashed by the ads." Jimmy replied.

A man pulled up in a van in front of the seven boys and man, "You guys look spooked. Do you need a ride?"

"We'd sure appreciate it, sir." David said, going to open the door to the backseat, "Come on guys, we need a ride anyway."

"Hang on a second, David, is this guy really safe?" Cartman asked.

"Of course he's safe, let's just get in the van!" David suggested.

"Oh, it's not a van." the man replied with a chuckle, "It's actually a brand new Toyota Camry, with breathtaking performance and luxurious interiors... I guess you could say it's just another way that Toyota... leads by example." he smiled.

Jimmy's eyes widened, "Holy shit." he backed away.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

Jimmy turned to them, "He's an ad."

"What? That's ridiculous." the man replied, "Now, everyone, please get into the Camry, but be careful of the luxurious interiors I mentioned before."

"Hold on fellas, I have an idea..." Jimmy pulled out his phone and dialed an app,

"We don't have time for that." Stan insisted, "Come on guys, it's time to throw rocks at cars!" The boys each proceeded to pick up a rock and threw it over towards the Camry, and the angry driver quickly drove off.

"You'll be hearing from my insurance company!" he insisted, before suddenly driving back, "My insurance company, by the way, is Geico. It's pretty easy to register - in fact, some might say it's so easy a caveman could do it!" he grinned, "I mean, look at this way. If you're a monkey, you throw your own shit. It's what you do. At Geico-"

Ring! Ring! A shiny red wagon pulled up on the pavement in front of the boys with a happy grin at the front,

"Timmah!"

"Wait a minute, Jimmy," Stan paused, "Didn't Timmy start HandiCar? That makes it a company, right? Isn't he compromised?"

"N-no, because he sold HandiCar to Elon Musk, if you r-recall, so this is just accepting a f-free w-w-wagon ride. He owed me one."

"Timmay!" Timmy pointed out at the man in the Camry, still spouting insurance slogans merrily as Kenny threw another rock, creating a dent in the car's exterior. The advertisement scowled and drove off. Timmy then pointed to the wagon as all seven kids filed in.

"It's kind of a tight fit." Butters replied.

"Yeah, well, wh-what do you want for nothing?"

"Oh my God, do you kids need help?" came a female voice across the street, approaching them quickly.

"Sh-shit, go Timmy, go!" Jimmy stated as he began to move slowly on the road.

"Hey, she's hot. I wonder what she wants." Kenny grinned.

"D-don't fall for it, Kenny!" Jimmy put his hand on Kenny's shoulder, but the woman came close and held up a phone, pointing to the 'Download' button next to an app.

"Try the hot new app! Make just ten dollars a day as a secret shopper!" she insisted.

"Oh God, they're everywhere." Butters explained.

"Go Timmy, Go!" Timmy insisted, increasing speed with his wheelchair and leaving the woman behind as they drove past the South Park Mall.

"Jesus, I don't think they like what we're doing, you guys." Stan replied.

"If only there was a safe place that was completely free of sponsored content, somewhere outside advertisers wouldn't even want to go..." Kyle speculated.

"We better think fast, fellas." Butters replied, as more passers by seemed to be taking interest in the vehicle.

"It would probably be somewhere with boring, intellectual programming that can only attract a small amount of viewers outside key demographics." Stan pointed out.

"You mean like C-SPAN?" Butters asked.

"Dude, come on, I said 'small amount of viewers outside key demographics', not _literally_ nobody." Stan replied.

"Public television." Kenny replied, voice muffled as ever.

"Only poor people watch PBS, Kinny." Cartman replied as Kenny slapped him thoughtlessly.

"That's right!" Kyle snapped his fingers, "Ike watches PBS every day. I'm pretty sure he's the only person in town who actually does. There wouldn't be an ad in sight!"

"I think the old public access station is up in the mountains just outside of town." Stan explained, "It's not far from where my dad used to work at the old Center for Seismic Activity."

"My dad told me they used to film a bunch of stuff up there." Butters pointed out.

"Yeah, but they've kept the place kind of quiet lately." Stan told them, "The local shows never did well. My Uncle's usually won out by like, three people."

"I guess this means we're going to a dumb public television station then?" Cartman said, laying back, "Sounds dumb. Wake me up when this is over."

"Tim-Tim, p-p-p-p-punch it." Jimmy suggested as Timmy increased speed.

xXx

"So... what can we do about the ads?"

"There's not much we can do, Dr. Marsh." Tom explained. "Unfortunately, neoliberalism's hold on this town is simply too powerful at this stage. They're already trying to use the media to turn this town against itself, creating a sort of, polarization effect. Anyone left in this town who can't handle the new status quo is being pushed away, while it attracts like-minded individuals from abroad. Just look at the Rodriguez family who just moved in. They're innocent in all of this, but they came _here_ for a reason. The ads lured them. Leslie slipped by as a new student, and we all saw how that worked out."

"B-but PC Principal killed her, I saw him do it!" Randy insisted.

"Woah, woah, Marsh, are you trying to use a micro-aggression on me? I am not a murderer. I didn't kill anybody." PC Principal scowled and crossed his arms, "All right everyone, listen up, Leslie was an advertisement, an inhuman being created to manipulate human beings, okay? She wasn't a person, she was never 'alive', per se, so I didn't kill anybody, okay?"

"Whatever help you sleep at night." Rick said.

"You wanna fuckin' throw down?" PC Principal called out as Randy put a hand on his shoulder, "Why you gotta disrespect me like that, bro?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, okay?" Randy insisted, "I-I do respect you, bro, t was just a- a bad choice of words."

"Hey? Guys? Can I come in?" came a voice from the door, as the newsmen turned around from the conference table to look at the door, "This is Bill Keegan, reporting live at the scene, where I am waiting for the door to open."

"...stand your ground, men, and have your weapons ready. We have those, right?" Tom instructed quietly, stepping forward, "Bill, what a pleasant surprise!" he said more loudly, "This is Tom Knickersniffer, former producer and senior correspondent for Channel Nine."

"Thanks Tom, now could you please open the door?" Bill asked.

"Stay dry, Bill, let me just find the right key." Tom Knickersniffer explained, returning to the other men, "Well everybody, what do we do? I don't trust him."

"Maybe he's realized the ads are a threat and come to us to join forces to stop them." suggested Rick, "Back to you, Tom."

"Hang on, that could be true, but it's important to keep in mind that he is a douchebag." Brian pointed out.

"Brian has a point, Rick." Knickersniffer replied.

"There was that time he got his co-anchor replaced by a younger, sexier model." pointed out another anchor.

"Oh, Dave is right, I remember her." Brian nodded, "Pretty face, terrible delivery."

"Well, listen, we all agree that he's a douche, we're just not sure if we should let him in." Tom Pusslicker, the original South Park News anchor, shrugged.

"I think we should give him a chance." Rick suggested, "What harm could it do?"

"He could steal all the credit like he usually does." Brian pointed out.

"Who says we have to tell him everything?" Knickersniffer explained, "We could keep him in the dark until he wins our trust. We don't know that we has to say is directly related to to our efforts."

"He makes a good point." Randy noted.

"I suppose that's all right, just, let's take another vote before he finds out the details, okay?" Brian asked.

"Tom, I'm standing here outside the door, waiting for you to find the keys and let me inside." Keegan's voice came from the door.

"Be right there, Bill!" Knickersniffer replied, approaching the door with a key to unlock it, "Why don't you explain what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

"Well Tom, I just thought it'd be nice to catch up since you all left the industry, see what you guys are up to now, what kind of hard-hitting stories you're chasing, just for old time's sake. I'm off-duty right now." Keegan explained as Tom Knickersniffer unlocked the door, "May I come in?"

Knickersniffer looked to PC Principal and Randy and shot them a knowing look, before he pulled the door wide open, "Certainly, Bill."

"All right now, just let me..." Keegan entered the room and stepped forward, "Look, before we talk, I need to talk to you guys because... well, it's just that..." he breathed in, "It's our advertising partners." he reported.

"Do you... know something new about them, Bill?" Tom asked.

"Follow me outside." Keegan asked, leading them from the secure conference room through some halls to the front door, PC Principal and Randy following the newsmen, "Our advertisers wanted to surprise you guys, but they're making busts of all your faces for the Newsmen Hall of Fame in Denver. You've really got to see it."

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Randy whispered.

"What's going on, Bill?" Knickersniffer asked as they stepped outside and saw everything much the same as they had left it, "What do you know about the ads?"

"And where's those buts?" Dave asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes... it's just that, well..." Keegan pulled a gun out of his shirt and turned around, "You've upset them." he explained. Two similarly-attired men appeared suddenly in front of the doorway, in suits with nice hair, others appearing around them.

"I told you assholes." Brian reported as they all backed up.

"It's a shame you guys wouldn't cooperate at the station. This all could have been so easy. Just some tests and surveys. It didn't have to be violent." Keegan shook his head, additional advertisements filling up behind him.

"Stand back." PC Principal replied, pushing Randy and the newsmen behind him before he rushed forward and kicked one advertisement forward into another as he flipped in the air and landed back on his feet, pulling a knife carved from imitation ivory out of his pocket as he stabbed another advertisement in the shoulder. The stabbed one stumbled to the floor as another ad grabbed PC Principal from behind and wrestled with him.

"My God, what can we do?" the newsmen exchanged nervous glances.

"Dude, come on, ivory, that's not cool!" Randy called out to PC Principal.

PC Principal threw the advertisement he was wrestling with into a tree, splitting his mechanical skull open and revealing a mess of wires, "'scuse you, Marsh. You think I'm fuckin' stupid, bro?" he insisted as another ad ran towards him, whom he kicked into another one, knocking both over, "Read your handbook. Fake ethical consumerism is an important part of the PC lifestyle. Faux-leather jackets and faux-ivory knives, man." he did a backflip to confront three ads behind him, then rushing forward to stab the middle ad in the back, while kicking the others both aside, "We used to hand 'em out at self-defense classes before we stopped supporting those." Perhaps coincidentally, when the college kids stopped getting laid there.

Randy turned his attention back to the other newsmen, "Don't you guys have some kind of a weapon to fight them off?" he asked in desperation.

"Well, no, we mostly let Barbrady do the dirty work." Knickersniffer admitted, "We stay inside the office. We've been safe there, mostly, underground. Ads aren't allowed inside public television facilities"

"Well, what were you going to do, just give us a bunch of exposition and let us go?"

"We didn't really think everything through after the Jimmy thing." Rick admitted.

"Yeah, that kid was kind of our trump card." reporter Kevin added.

"We tried calling Jon Stewart, but he was busy." Brian explained.

Two ads grabbed PC Principal around his neck, and he began to choke for breath. Tom Pusslicker sighed and rubbed his forehead as he stepped forward, "I can't take this anymore."

"Huh?" Randy raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Marsh, you and PC Principal have to get the hell out of here immediately. You're the future of our species. I can hold them off for a bit while all the rest of you get away from here." he insisted.

"Tom, this is... so unexpected." Tom Knickersniffer, the other Tom, said, "Why are you doing this?"

Tom Pusslicker sighed, "Tom, I'm the oldest news anchor in this town. I've been covering stories for almost twenty years, from anal probe gossip to the war with Canada. I've lost everything I know to the ads and their evil plots... friends, colleagues, desks, my career... and all the while, Hillary Clinton's ass has never stopped getting any bigger. I don't want to live in this world they're creating." he took off his jacket, cut off a strip, and tied it as a bandana around his head, "They've taken it all from me, and I say it's time to repay the favor. Take PC Principal and get the fuck out of here." he stepped forward. He sighed and, as if realizing he'd forgotten something, looked back to Tom Knickersniffer, "...back to you, Tom."

PC Principal had escaped the two ads but now found himself with his arms held by one, legs by another, and a third one preparing to punch him, when Pusslicker ran forward and kicked the one raising his fist.

"What the hell?" another ad questioned, one dropping PC Principal to attack Tom Pusslicker, while another tried to hold him. Tom pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and slit the throat of one ad, while kicking the other into a tree branch.

"Kiyaah!" Randy kicked down one of the ads, grabbed PC Principal and yanked him away so they could escape, "Come on, we're going to need backup..." he said, pulling PCP's arm with him...

"All right men, there's only one thing to do now." Knickersniffer reported, "We're all going to go hide in my ex-wife's basement, just like we were discussing before."

"Did you buy those extra sleeping bags we talked about, Tom?" Brian asked.

xXx

While a group of the majority of the town's police officers enjoyed lunch in the break room, Sgt. Yates stood in the main room of the Park County Police Department on the phone, "Of course, Mayor, I was only doing my job. No, no, thank you, I insist."

"Detective?" came a voice as Yates looked away from the phone. Officer Peterson looked up at him, "Sir, somebody's at the front desk. It's urgent. He says he needs to speak to you."

"I'll be right back, Mayor." Sgt. Yates hung up the phone, "All right, Peterson, Barkley, follow me." he nodded as they went through a door into the front desk area.

"Hello, sir." said the officer behind the desk, an obese, balding brown-haired man in a brown faux leather jacket and buttoned shirt standing there, holding the arm of a ten-year-old girl in yellow with black hair named Leslie.

"Hey, hang on, that's the ad!" Barkley pulled out his gun, as did Yates and Peterson, all pointed it directly at Leslie.

"Please, you've got to listen to me. Put us in a jail cell if you need to, but just listen to me!" the man said raising his arms around his face, "I'm white and unarmed!"

"Wait a second... Barbrady, is that you?" Yates began to stand down, "Jesus, I didn't recognize you out of uniform." he breathed, "Look Barbrady, you're not welcome here anymore, and neither is she. The decision's out of my hands. The Mayor has a big event on the horizon, George, and she's counting on me to keep anything from going wrong." Yates explained.

"I know, but you've got to listen. I know I screwed up, okay?" Barbrady explained, "I don't deserve a badge, or a gun, and I can accept that, but you've gotta trust me on this. I grew up in this town, I love it more than anything in the world. All I've ever wanted to do is protect it and keep it safe - that's what I've always told you, ever since you moved here." Barbrady asked, "Lock me up, I deserve it, but Harris, I'm asking you not as your former colleague, but as your _friend_ , please listen to me."

Yates looked at him and sighed, "Stand down, men. Take Officer Barbrady and Leslie to the cell room and I'll... I'll hear him out." Yates nodded, as Peterson and Barkley stood down. Barbrady and Leslie submitted voluntarily, a fact not lost on the Sergeant.

In a moment, the two were sitting in a jail cell, with Officer Foley reading a newspaper behind the desk and chewing on a sandwhich, with Yates standing in front of the cell. The old Police Station had been gradually built over for the new one, but the old school jail cells remained in tact, with a more modern set of cells on the opposite end of the building for housing more dangerous criminals and vigilantes. Yates didn't see that level of security necessary for Barbrady.

Yates drew from a cigarette as he looked in the cell, "All right, George, what's this about?"

"Leslie here used to be part of a global network of sentient, programmed advertisements, some kind of a hive-mind all over the world." Barbrady explained, "They've been trying to change everything, and when people fight back, so do they. Leslie was sent to gentrify South Park, but when she failed, they threatened to execute her. She's willing to tell us everything, as long as we protect her."

"You can't stop them, you know." Nathan told them all from his cell next door, "The ads. They're too powerful. They'll always come up with a new way to take control. Before you can even figure out their last strategy, they're already working on the next one. They're no stopping them. As long as people feel good buying their products, they'll gentrify us all."

"Foley, dammit, I thought I told you to call this kids' parents." Yates put his hands on his hips with annoyance.

"I did, they said they'd be over in an hour... but that was at least three days ago." Foley replied with a shrug, "I gave him some cereal from my lunch so he should be fine." he continued eating his sandwhich.

"Lucky kid! I wish I could get some cereal!" Jimbo said angrily from the next cell over, "I keep hearin' good things about Marshmallow Mateys."

"Look Jimbo, he's a kid, and you've only been here an hour." Foley replied.

"Yeah, but I'm here until false pretenses! You guys tricked me!" Jimbo protested, "You made a big mistake lettin' Ned go, cause I know wherever he is, he's doing whatever he can to get me out of here!"

"Shut up, Jimbo." Yates crossed his arms, "Look Foley, if either of them speak up again, use the tranquilizer darts. I am giving you express permission and consent to use _non-lethal_ force as necessary." Yates advised, as he pulled out and inspected his pistol, not realizing it was aimed directly at Foley, "I'll take the heat if anything goes wrong, but use extreme caution. Non-lethal weapons aren't toys, they're dangerous." he insisted, before letting out a 'Pchew, Pchew' as he played with the pistol.

"Aye, sir." Foley nodded.

Yates turned his attention back to the main cell, taking another drag and stepping forward, "All right, little missy, tell us everything you know. No funny business."

"...I guess I'll start at the beginning." Leslie nodded.

xXx

Crappy music played as Crunchy's Microbrew, filled to the brim with the jobless and unemployed of South Park, "Well, this blows..." Darryl Weathers sighed.

"You said it. I don't know what to do without my farm." Rancher Bill Denkins sighed, hands on his cheeks, "My poor chickens, my cattle... what'll happen to them without me around? Someone could be goin' and usin' them for all sorts of weird stuff right now, and there ain't nothin' I can do about it!"

"I'm telling you guys, those goddamn liberals, they keep sayin' they're gonna create jobs, but all they do is let them richers send their manufacturin' jobs overseas, and give all the poor minorities a check, and we white workin' men get laid off and die. It's like they just don't care! Freakin' Obama." Darryl Weathers rolled his eyes.

"What happened to you, Stuart?" Mr. Adler asked.

"I was unemployed before any of this happened. I'm always here." Stuart McCormick sighed, taking a drink from a big bottle of scotch, "You guys should get used to this shit, 'cause those jobs ain't comin' back any time soon."

"He's right, you guys. It's no use." Ryan Valmer sighed, "We're gonna lose our homes and we'll have to move out of South Park for good. Randy Marsh makes more money than most of us from his big music career, and even he's getting kicked out of town now."

"Yeah, but didn't lose his job over something else?" Mr. Adler asked.

"I don't know. It's all kind of unclear to me." Stuart confessed, "I mean, I'm one of his best friends, I should know, but honestly, I'm as confused as you are. This whole continuity stuff should really get sorted out."

"I hear that!" the old familiar blonde Bartender, Rick Jones, nodded, before looking to the man next to him, "What do you think, Ned?"

"Mm, what's the wi-fi password?" Ned asked.

"Godammit Ned, stop playing Chinpokomon Go, this is serious!" Stuart insisted.

"Yeah." Thomas Tucker pointed out, "Your best friend and heterosexual life partner is in prison, you're losing your damn show, you're losing the gun shop. Doesn't that drive you crazy?"

Stuart poked in, raising his bottle, "Hell, the next thing you know, they're gonna make it illegal for us to drink!"

"Like hell they will!" Skeeter said, leaning over and taking a glass from behind the counter and pouring it, "I don't take kindly to bein' pushed around like some kinda second-class citizen!"

"Now Skeeter, I don't want no trouble-" Rick tried to explain.

"Skeeter, this isn't your bar-" Mr. Adler tried to say.

"I know that!" Skeeter replied, "Let 'em arrest me. The Stoleys promised to take good care of Red if anything happens to me."

"What about your wife?" Ryan asked.

"Oh, well, I-"

Further back along the bar, two ranchers sat together sipping beer, "How long do you think they're gonna be talkin' for?" asked one rancher in a cowboy hat with a thick gray beard to his friend, a cattle rancher and janitor with lighter gray hair in a red jacket.

"I don't know, but probably 'til this whole mess is finally sorted out." the other rancher said, "Maybe things won't be quite so P-C 'round here for much longer."

"Hey, did you guys notice none of them college kids are here anymore?" Stuart explained, "It's just us."

"Yeah! Hey, we can change the channel on the TV! No more of that _True Blood_ crap!" Skeeter cheered.

"I'm pretty sure that show isn't even on anymore." Mr. Adler interrupted, sipping his own beer.

"I'm just tryin' to stay relevant..." Skeeter shook his head.

"Hey look!" Thomas pointed up at the television,

"It's time for us to take our country back," Mr. Garrison proclaimed, at a podium with his running mate, delivering a stump speech, "You know, when I was a kid, things were pretty great around here. I mean sure, my uncle got in a bunch of trouble for accusing the gays of killin' the President or somethin', but folks were a lot more decent to each other and no fat corrupt bitch was ever gonna get this close to the White House! I say it's time we made America great for Americans again!"

"In my hometown," Garrison continued, "People are losin' jobs left and right, to a crazy liberal agenda, and then they're gonna lose their homes, and they're getting screwed over! I say, let's get rid of all these damn liberals, the undocumented immigrants, and we take our country back! Do you know how long I've been talkin' about gettin' rid of all the Mexicans? Years!" he declared, "Me and Caitlyn aren't gonna let anyone tell us what slurs we are and aren't allowed to say! It's time for hard-workin' Americans to burn the system down and tell them they've had enough of all this bull crap!"

"Hey... hey, he's right." Thomas put his beer glass down, "What are we doin' sitting around and feelin' sorry for ourselves at some dumb college bar? We should be out there tryin' to get our jobs back!"

"Mmm... they took our jobs!" Ned declared, getting up from his barstool.

"They took our jobs!" Mr. Adler insisted.

"They tooker' jerbs!" Darryl Weathers said loudly.

"They took _my_ job a long time ago!" Stuart said with annoyance.

"Let's go protest the Mayor's dumb carnival and show her that we're not going to sit around silent and let 'em take our livelihoods away!" Darryl declared.

"Yeah!" Rancher Denkins got up as well, and soon the entire group of men was preparing to file out the door and get into action.

"Yeah!" Rick cheered.

Only two men remained in the bar after the others filed away, with Stephen Stotch in back reading a copy of Sooper School News on his own, and Ned, who sat back down, "Mm, yeah, as soon as I catch Cletfairy."

"Dammit Ned, we ain't waiting up!" Mr. Adler called back.

"Right behind you." Ned replied.

xXx

Timmy parked his wagon outside the former South Park Public Access building, as the kids began to get out of the wagon. Jimmy noticed immediately from the wagon that the roof was a little messy, and there was a crack near the bottom of the building, near where it met the ground, "Wow, this place looks d-deserted."

"Whoever was here must've left in a hurry." Kyle said as he left the wagon, helping Jimmy and the other kids out.

"Looks recent, if you ask me." Cartman rubbed his chin, crouching down, "Look at this, you guys." he held up something small and unnoticeable, "This is a trace of KFC gravy. It's still wet. It couldn't have been here long." he told them, examining it, "They left in a hurry is right." he licked the gravy off his glove, "They were older males who didn't want to be seen sitting at a fast food restaraunt, obviously."

"You can tell all that from a trace of gravy?" Stan asked.

"Look, if there's one thing in this world I know, it's KFC gravy." Cartman replied, "Every trace is a gift from God himself." he shut his eyes.

"Dude, that's really fucking weird." Kenny said as he walked by.

"Shut up, Kinny." Cartman gave another taste, "This is wet, but it isn't fresh. They left quickly but they were intending to stay here long-term."

"That's... interesting." Stan nodded.

"Help..." came a distant voice.

"D-did you hear that, fellas?" Butters asked.

"It's coming from the bushes." David nodded, leading them over to a large bush to the right of the building.

"Please help..." Tom Pusslicker cried out, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, with a black eye and his shirt gone, trying to nurse his wounds, "God, it hurts... the pain..."

"Hey, he's still alive!" Kyle ran over, "It's okay, sir, I can help." he found part of Tom's shirt and tried to repair his injury.

"Tom P-P-Pah-P-Pah-Pusslicker?" Jimmy stepped forward next to Kyle.

"Jimmy... is that you?" the man took Jimmy's hand gently, "Thank God you've come back... you're... you're our only hope..." he coughed, "They're getting stronger, Jimmy..."

"Who's getting stronger?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah Jimmy, how does he know you?" Stan added.

"It's a long story, fellas. Tom and his friends told me all about the a-a-ads." Jimmy nodded, "B-back to you, Tom."

Pusslicker coughed, "Th-thanks Jim... they're... they're trying to destroy us..." he sat up a bit, "They hate South Park, because we've been resisting their influence for so long. They... just can't find peace as long as there are people out there who don't like what they're doing..."

"What should we do?" Jimmy asked.

"Well, m-maybe, if you can... call 9-1-1 first..." Tom told them, "After that... I don't know. I don't know how to stop them..."

"But you told me I was the key!" Jimmy said.

"Don't mind us, we're just going to sit here and keep listening from the sidelines like a bunch of shmucks." Cartman rolled his eyes, as Kenny slapped him, "Ey!"

"The ads want to create a politically correct, gentrified world... you need to... find a way to fight that back..." Tom insisted, "A way to show that the world can't be gentirfied the way they want it to be..."

"Hey, where's Butters?" Stan asked, as the group looked over to see Butters by the woods, sitting on a log as he video-chatted with his girlfriend, Charlotte, via Skype, giggling. "What are you doing, Butters?"

"Oh sorry Stan, but it's time for me and Charlotte to have our daily Skype chat. I was just tellin' her about all the stuff we've been up to all day." Butters explained, "Say hi to Stan, sweetie!"

"Hullo Stan." came Charlotte's voice from the phone,

"Butters, we don't have time for this." Stan disagreed, "We have to figure out how to stop the advertisements."

"That's the thing, Stan, Charlotte tells me they already tried to take over Canada, but they failed, it was all reversed!" Butters explained, holding up his phone,

"During the last Canadian elections, there was this brash, older fellow running for President, but he was _really_ funny, and there were a lot of fun advertisements for him, making all these big promises... none of us were paying any _real_ attention to the elections, so next thing you knew, he was the only candidate left. He tried to gentrify everything, sold everything to private businesses, but we all left the country, so there were no taxes and he ran out of money." Charlotte explained, "The whole thing was a total failure."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Stan explained.

"Stan, who was the one who made a big stink at our school about the Canadian immigrants?" Butters pointed out, "Who tried to go to Canada and fucked the Canadian President to death?"

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about the fact Mr. Garrison is a rapist, dude." Stan told him, "Hey... hey, wait a minute... that's why they tried to kill Mr. Garrison! It all makes sense now!"

"They're tryin' to eliminate him cause he's the first real threat they've had. He's actually stopped them. If we can just talk to Mr. Garrison, and keep him from gettin' hurt, he could be key to figurin' all of this out!"

"That's great, Butters!" Stan grinned, "We better go tell the others."

xXx

Randy and PC Principal stood outside the Park County Police Department building, both visibly shaken as they faced each other, "Look, there's nowhere else for us to go. These are the only people who can help us."

"Marsh, you don't know what you're saying. These men are officers of the law, sworn to protect the privileged and support the systems of oppression that keep minorities and lower classes down. They are all killers, and I frankly don't think I want their help."

"Where else are we supposed to go?" Randy asked, "The Mayor's already been bought out by the ads so they can go and gentrify everything. Nobody's going to believe us. Let's face it, we need protection, and we know most of these men have been in this town longer than you. We should be safe."

"Sandra Bland, Marsh." PC Principal crossed his arms, "Freddie Gray. Laquan MacDonald. Tamir Rice. Walter Scott. Alton Sterling. Michael Brown. Trayvon fuckin' Martin. I can keep going all day, Marsh." he told him, "Did you know that in the last two months, Token Black and David Rodriguez were both shot while unarmed in South Park? That's not even counting all the homeless people that the Mayor has herded out all the time. These cops are oppressors. Can't you see that?"

Randy looked at him, "Where else can we turn?" he asked simply.

"That's not an easy question, Marsh." PCP crossed his arms.

"Do you need some help out here?" an officer had exited the building's front doors and faced them.

"Yes, yes, we do, you see, my name is Randy, and this is PC Principal." Randy began, speaking over PCP. "We need protection."

"The police are here to ensure the safety of people throughout the community." the officer replied, "We're happy to help."

"Well, that's just great." Randy grinned, shaking his hand and looking smugly at PCP, "Thank you so much. What on Earth could we do to repay you?"

"Oh, that's easy. The policeman's ball is coming up and we're always accepting donations." the officer nodded.

"Oh, well, we don't really have any money on us..." Randy rubbed his neck.

"So I guess you don't care about the police force, huh?" the officer asked, crossing his arms, "You don't care about the people who protect your community, risking their lives day in and day out..."

"Oh, well, uh..." Randy began to hyperventilate, "I... I... uh..." Nothing quite triggered him quite like charity-shaming.

"You know, this could all be over if you just made a simple donation." the officer replied, "The Policeman's Ball only comes once a year... doesn't supporting your community make you happy? Make you feel safe?" he began to ask.

"Oh God..." Randy's hyperventilating increased, but soon calmed as PC Principal kicked the officer back, revealing metal plating beneath his face.

"They're getting stronger... masquerading as if raising money for a good cause so they can pocket your change and run away. Scum." PC Principal shook his head, "I told you these people were compromised, Marsh. I'm going to take out every last one of these bastards." he left Randy behind as he charged through the doors.

"Wait-" Randy called out too late.

PC Principal stopped in his tracks in the door to the main hall of the Police Department, "Oh my God." PC Principal he exclaimed as he looked ahead to see Officer Barbrady and Leslie sitting on two seats with blankets and cocoa, surrounded by police officers, "I should've known."

"PC Principal, what are you doing here?" Sgt. Yates asked, raising an eyebrow, "Is this about the hunger strike?"

"I'm doing something I should've finished a long time ago. Woo woo woo!" PC Principal began rushing forward towards Leslie, pulling his arm back for a punch, when she looked up at him and sighed,

"You can't kill me, dad."

PC Principal stopped in his tracks, taking off his sunglasses, eyes wide as he stared at her, "I-I don't- I haven't- we..." he stammered out.

Leslie sighed softly, looking to the ground, "Allow me explain..."

 **To Be Continued...**

 _Author's Note:_ If I don't finish Chapter 3 by early September, I'll just post the notes for what would be Chapter 3 and maybe 4. The next season'll tie these plots up anyhow. The good news is the third chapter is already a quarter finished, done while Rachel ( **Mad_Cow5678** ) was doing editing for this chapter :)

The names are an internal retcon. 'Tom Knickersniffer' is now the senior news anchor with glasses voiced by Bill Hader. I never thought about the anchors when I introduced that name in here. 'Tom Pusslicker' is the one used from seasons 1 to 9. The current guy, since season 13, is 'Tom Thompson'. Back to you, Tom.


	4. It's Not Murder if it's an Ad

_Author's Note:_ I wrote this chapter in like, three non-consecutive days altogether. Nice to have a fast turn-around on something again!

 **South Park:**

" **THE ADS AWAKEN"**

 **Chapter Three**

 _by John_

"This doesn't make any sense!" PC Principal said, shocked, eyes widening as memories began to flood his head, "I can't- you... what the hell?" he put a hand on his forehead. "What the hell is going on, bro?"

"It's coming back to you now, isn't it?" Leslie began to explain calmly, "The memories they tried so hard to suppress?"

"Do you know what's going on here, George?" Yates whispered to the larger ex-police officer, who merely shrugged.

"Not a thingy-dingee, Harris." Barbrady replied quietly, sipping his cocoa.

"Try to remember... before any of this happened, we were a family." Leslie told him, stepping forward, "We lived in Conifer. Mom sold real estate. Do you remember now?" she told him, voice softening, becoming a little less robotic "We appeared in a State Farm Insurance marketing campaign. That's how the advertisers found us. I sold my likeness for our family, when the market declined. That's why there's so many of me out there."

PC Principal pulled his hair, "N-no, that can't be true..."

"I'm gonna go make some cocoa for PC Principal, okay?" Randy whispered to Yates, who shrugged, "Are there any blankets left? He'll probably need some."

"Check the cupboard." Yates whispered.

"The advertisements used those same templates to recreate me for their purposes, all with false memories. We were at the very center of their plans." Leslie told him, "We both knew South Park's history - everyone in Colorado knows that's where all the weird shit happens. We knew they weren't politically correct here. That's why they took us - because they didn't want South Park standing in their way." she turned, "You men, surrounding us. You should prepare for the carnival. Don't let them know anything's up yet." she said in her calm voice.

The officers exchanged nervous glances, but Yates shrugged, giving them the hint to follow her instruction.

"B-but I- I killed you!" PC Principal said, flipping his Oakleys up, "A-am I even human? Th-this doesn't make any sense, bro... bro?" he looked for Randy, who was unable to be found... he was over preparing the coffee, and not listening to any of this.

"You're human. You were the first attempt at manipulating the memories of a human being, to create a hybrid. Your real name was Peter. Peter Cox." she explained, as someone giggled, "This is serious here. Is there a problem?" she turned.

Officer Foley covered his mouth, "S-sorry."

Leslie turned back to PC Principal, "You were manipulated by the ads so they could send you here to use your PC abilities to weaken the town of South Park, convince them to gentrify and get them to assimilate into the collective. They sent me as a fallback. When you failed, they sent me in, but they didn't count on you becoming attached to the town. They hoped you wouldn't be able to kill me, that your subconscious would recognize me... we both failed, so... now, the PC Carnival is their 'Final Solution' for South Park - they want to eliminate this entire town, and both of us, as a threat. I don't know what they're planning, but there's going to be a tragedy at that carnival, and they're going to use it to spread fear and panic across the country. They wanted to execute me for my failure, but I escaped, but as soon as they figure out I'm still connected, they'll try to destroy my neural net remotely."

"What does that mean?" Sgt. Yates asked.

"Let me handle this, I'm a scientist." Randy stepped forward, holding a blanket over one arm and a cup of cocoa, "If I remember my robotics courses in college right... if they destroy her neural net, she'll lose all of her memories, artificial or real, and she'll probably lose her connection to their network, possibly even their wi-fi password." he sighed, "They'll basically destroy her and leave her an empty lifeless husk, like the Golden Girls."

"Hey, you be nice to the Golden Girls!" Barbrady insisted.

"I'm just saying." Randy crossed his arms defensively.

"There's one more thing." Leslie interrupted with annoyance, "I said you were the prototype for a hybrid. They succeeded - somewhere in this town, there's a traitor to the cause, a human being who doesn't know they've been assimilated into the collective. The programming goes directly to their subconscious." Leslie reported, "We have to locate them."

"My God..." Randy responded, "S-so this means PC's been bad all along?" PC Principal held his Oakleys off, looking down at the floor in silence as he listened to Leslie's answers.

"Jesus..." he said quietly.

Leslie's voice softened again as she overheard him, "The ads don't really care about political correctness or diversity. They've co-opted the ideas, but only on their own terms. Instead of using diversity and social justice to empower the oppressed, create dialogue, or bring people together, they just want to make everybody unhappy, so they keep buying things and making purchases." she explained, "They're not selling movies anymore, they're selling political statements. They make newsmen go out there and tell you 'people who don't see the new all-female Ghostbusters aren't feminists', so everyone feels like they have to see it, so they feel like their purchase is a contribution to something bigger."

"W-wait, so Ghostbusters is bad?" Randy said.

"I told you it was gonna suck." Officer Barkley crossed his arms smugly to Peterson, who just shrugged.

"No, no, that's not the point, it's probably fine." Leslie told them all quickly, annoyed at the peanut gallery commentary, "Look, the ads don't care about the actual movie. They let the creative people do what they want to do. They just want to manipulating you into seeing it for the wrong reasons. It could be a great movie, but the marketing could _still_ be shit. They do this for everything. They promote diversity so they can destroy it by making all of us share the same feelings of persecution and keep participating in their crappy system until we lose our homes and destroy ourselves. As soon as political correctness interferes with their needs, they subvert it wherever they can. That's why they tried to get rid of you, and your friends, and all those homeless people."

PC Principal merely looked at his hands, as if they were covered in blood, "They used me... my whole life's mission has been a lie... I can't believe I allowed myself to become a tool of the real oppressors." he sighed, "Am I even PC? What does PC even mean?"

"Oh wow... I feel like such a tool..." Randy sighed, "Oh, here's your Cocoa, PC Principal." he handed him the cup.

"Thanks."

"All right, enough with all this exposition. It's time for some action. What do we do?" Sgt. Yates asked.

"Look, I escaped by broadcasting a signal that jammed the other ads' frequencies so I could find the real social justice warriors in town who are keeping real PC alive, the people who are staying hidden, waiting until they can undo the damage. I need to help them, and I think they're the key to saving the town, but we need to find them. Someone here _has_ to know where they are."

"My God, it could be anyone!" Barbrady exclaimed.

"Well, it's not me. I only joined this thing because of PC Principal here." Randy nodded, stepping over by him, "You okay there, big guy?" PC Principal didn't respond, hands still in his hair.

"This is a police department. We care as much about racial injustice as most white people." Detective Murphey spoke up.

"Yeah, we do our part." Yates nodded.

"That's just the goddamn problem, isn't it?" spoke out the token African-American officer, sighing, "All right fine, come with me, I'll show you where the real politically correct people are."

"You're doing this town a great favor, Officer. Godspeed." Yates nodded, patting him on the back.

"You don't even know my name, do you, Detective?" the officer raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I do. You're... LaShawn Jordan, right?" Yates raised an eyebrow.

"Curtis! It's Curtis Knowles!" the officer shook his head, "Come on... PC Principal, Dr. Marsh, Leslie, Barbrady, follow me..."

"All right, but as long as we're moving, I have to make a phone call..." Randy pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

xXx

The PC Carnival was grand and impressive as it was set up throughout the town square, a massive stage at the end for the big event to unfold. Each booth was manned by a couple of citizens to sell their local, homegrown, homebrewed, or whatever crap they planned to sell.

"This is Bill Keegan, live from the South Park town square as preparations for South Park's first annual Politically Correct Carnival near completion." the reporter explained, "We're being told that presidential candidate Herbert Garrison's limo is imminent to join the festivities, and will appear with Mayor McDaniels as she cuts the ribbon to allow citizens and tourists to join the fair." Keegan explained, tapping his fear. "We're now go live to Niles Lawsen, who's already inside. Niles?"

"Thanks, Tom." Lawsen nodded to the camera, "We're live inside the carnival as local businesspeople prepare food and beverages unique to the region to sell to tourists. I'm talking to Richard Tweak, who manages the local Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse."

"Yes, well, we're all just happy to be here, Niles." Richard grinned at the camera, "It's exciting to have an opportunity to share our local, fresh brewed coffee with people far and wide. You know, we could start a franchise system like the Harbucks Corporation, but I guess we just care a little more."

"What kinds of products will you be selling at your booth today, Mr. Tweek?" Niles asked, holding the microphone.

"We'll be selling a variety of our local Tweekers' blend coffee items, and our very loved, very gay son, Tweek, will be present to take photos and sign autographs with his boyfriend, Craig, and right next door, we're collaborating with local young women who will be selling copes of local Tweek x Craig dōjinshi. We could import some Tweek x Craig manga from Japan, but part of being a progressive is giving independent artists exposure and reach a wider audience."

"That's right, Mr. Tweek." Niles nodded, "But, speaking as an American who has spent some time in Japan recently, is it still a dōjinshi if it's officially authorized and licensed by your company?"

"As it is a fan-created work, yes it is, but fan-created works are like family-owned businesses." The familiar and calming Tweek Bros. Coffee background music began to play as he spoke, "Sure, not all of it's the best, but it's the time, effort, love that go into the work that matters more than the quality of the final result, even if it's pretty good anyway."

"All right, we'll let you get back to work, Mr. Tweek." the camera re-focused on Niles only, "This carnival is shaping up to be the biggest event in South Park in a long time and there's a lot of exciting stuff on the way. Back to you, Tom."

"Thanks, Niles." Bill Keegan nodded, "Despite all the fanfare and buzz at the town square, not everyone is pleased about the new carnival. We now go live to a Vertically Challenged Individual in a Gendered Bathing Suit."

"Thanks, Tom. I'm standing here in front of a protest line for the town's new PC carnival." Midget-in-a-Bikini, looking much the same as ever, stood across the street from the PC Carnival festivities in front of police 'DO NOT CROSS' tape. Behind the tape were Jimbo, Ned, Skeeter, Stuart, Mr. Adler, Darryl Weathers, Ryan Valmer, and other men who had lost their jobs as of late, some holding megaphones or pitchforks, "We're not sure why these men are protesting or why, but we're looking forward to speculating. To make this more interesting and boost those ratings, we're going to talk to the most insane, radical person we can find in here."

"Hey, reporter!" Skeeter called out, "We don't take kindly to yer types' round here." he said angrily.

"You mean little people?" the reporter raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean you media reportin' types! You go on the news and make us all look like a bunch of dumb rioters who just wanna mess everything up, and then nobody has a conversation about actual issues." Skeeter insisted.

"I thought we agreed I'd handle the media?" Jimbo asked.

"Sorry about that Tom, we seem to be getting some interference." Midget-in-a-Bikini adjusted his headset, holding the microphone up to Skeeter, as he continued speaking,

"Now, listen up America, I'm just a hard-workin' small business owner like you, and now thanks to Obama, they took mah job!"

"They took 'is jerb!" Darryl Weathers interrupted.

"They took his job!" Rancher Bill repeated.

"They took er derb!" spoke up another redneck from the back row.

"We want our voices to be heard. Gentrification is puttin' us out of work and pushin' us out of neighborhoods!" Stuart insisted.

"Yeah, they're takin' our jobs!" Darryl declared.

"Will you quit screwin' around?" Mr. Adler insisted, glaring at Mr. Weathers.

"Well, there you have it. It looks like some pissed off rednecks are planning to protest the event." The reporter moved a little away from the protesters, "Well, one thing's for sure, Bill, if anyone's getting screwed at this carnival, they're consenting to it one hundred percent. Back to you, Tom."

xXx

"I think as long as we follow these train tracks, we should be pretty safe." Kyle said, looking over the map on his phone as the boys were gently pulled along by Timmy in his wagon, "Trains around here are really out-of-date and not convenient enough to be quaint, so the ads are leaving them alone, I guess."

"That m-makes sense." Jimmy nodded. "Thanks for the ride again, Tim-Tim."

"Timmah!"

"We still need a way to fight back." Cartman pointed out, "Everyone keeps telling us all the same dumb backstory crap, but nobody's told us how to actually stop them."

"Why are we even doing this? We don't even have a plan." David reminded them, "We're basically just killing time. We don't know anything!"

"N-now David, you just gotta look on the bright side." Butters told him, "Most of the people in town don't know all this backstory stuff, so we're already a lot further along than they are."

"Butters, that's fucking stupid." Kenny spoke up.

"Huh?" Stan stopped, his phone ringing, "Hang on, guys, it's... my dad? Do I answer?"

"I don't know, maybe Kyle might not like it if you answer." Cartman chuckled, covering his mouth. Stan looked to Kyle,

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Kyle asked.

"Is it okay if I answer the phone, Kyle?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I seem to remember a certain someone complaining that my dad was really the enemy because he was PC Principal's little bitch... that's a quote, dude, the slur's on your hands." Stan replied.

"...oh God, you're still upset about that?" Kyle rolled his eyes, "Don't be fucking dense dude. I was wrong about PC Principal, I was wrong about Leslie, I was wrong about your dad, and I was wrong about _you_ , okay?" he told Stan, "You're my best friend, and I should've trusted you. I'm sure nothing in that phone call can tear our friendship apart. Answer it." he nodded.

"Apology accepted, Kyle." Stan nodded with a smile and answered the phone, "Hi dad."

"Stan! Staaan!" Randy's voice was so loud that Stan had to pull his cell phone back a bit from his head.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Where are you, Stan? Are you safe?" Randy asked.

"Uh, me and my friends were going to go to Idaho to fight the ads, but we don't have any weapons that work well against robots... or any way out of here. We're kind of still figuring out the next step." Stan shrugged.

"That's my boy. Look Stan, I'm with PC Principal right now, and we're looking into all the details. I'll try to keep it to the important stuff. Leslie is back, but she's with the good guys now. The ads tried to use PC Principal, and now they're using the carnival to destroy the town. Mr. Garrison is on his way here... oh, right, and one of your friends is probably a hybrid who's been helping the ads the whole time. I think that about covers all the details?"

"Uh, r-right, hang on." Stan turned to the guys, holding the phone to his chest, "Uh... my dad says there's a hybrid, or something, who's unknowingly working for the ads to throw us off our plan and keep their agenda in line, or something." Stan shrugged, "He says it's... probably one of us."

"I don't think it can be any of us, Stanley." Randy replied, "The ads were using PC Principal to influence me, and they used Leslie differently and... well, we all know how Barbrady is. So I know it's not us."

"Thanks for the tip, Dad, we'll get right on it." Stan nodded, "Keep up whatever you guys are doing? I'll call back later." he shrugged and hung up.

"Well Jimmy, who is it?" Butters asked.

"Wh-what? Oh, right, uh..." Jimmy looked from each kid to each in the group, his eyes moving over Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Butters and David, "Uh... l-let's try that again." he looked over Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Butters and David, "O-oh shit..."

"What?"

"I can't tell. My God, I can't tell!" Jimmy panicked, eyes wide.

"Well, if you ask me, it's probably Kenny." Butters suggested, "He's been actin' weird ever since he got that new job at City Wok, and th-that's, uh, supportin' capitalism, which ties right back to the ads, a-and we all kn-know Princess Kenny does whatever her Japanese businessmen fr-friends tell her..."

"Hey, fuck you!" Kenny protested.

"And how do we know it's not you, Butters?" Kyle pointed out, "You were exposed to all of those banner advertisements on Twitter when you had to filter stuff out. We all saw you losing your marbles!"

"If you ask me, it's obvious that it has to be Kyle." Cartman crossed his arms, "I mean, let's face the facts... he's Jewish, he's a Ginger, he's from Jersey, and he trusted Leslie of all people. He's been backstabbing us since day one. I wouldn't be surprised if we found space titanium under his skin right now, you guys!"

"Yeah, well, what's Kenny hidin' under his hood then?" Butters crossed his arms, "I bet it's not even the real Kenny under there! I bet it's an ad pretendin' to be Kenny to trick us!"

"Leave Kenny alone, he's too poor to be a pawn of media companies." Cartman insisted.

"How do we know you're not working with the ads, Cartman!" Kyle replied, "How many times have you tried to sell us out to media companies for profit? What about _Me and Mr. Hankey_ , huh, Cartman? Writing Adam Sandler's stupid movies? Siding with Disney over _Star Wars_? The Washington Redskins Holiday Special?"

"Kyle, you have a point, but let's be honest here." Cartman told him, "You know, you _know_ , that if it _was_ me, I'd be _way_ more transparent, and you'd have already guessed it, like twice, by now."

"He has a point, Kyle." Stan nodded.

"All right, well, uh, let's step back and think, who's done the most to try to keep us from accomplishing our goals here?" Kyle asked.

"...why are you guys looking at me?" David's eyes widened, all the boys around him but Jimmy glaring at him.

"We should've known..." Cartman crossed his arms, "I knew he wasn't like the rest of us! Something about that kid stuck out like a sore thumb from the beginning! He _even_ looks shady!"

"Of course, it all makes sense now." Kyle said, "No wonder you keep telling us to give up and stop snooping around!"

"Yeah, and you really wanted us to trust Mr. Lu Kim to buy weapons when he tried to _kill_ us!" Stan reminded them.

"You wanted us to get in the van with that guy who turned out to be an ad." Butters added.

"You didn't want us to go back to Idaho to solve this mess." Cartman pointed out, "You just wanted us to play video games and hoped it blew over."

"Timmay!" Timmy spoke up.

"See, even fuckin' Timmy agrees!" Kenny noted.

Jimmy stepped forward, "Fellas, I'm not-"

"Jimmy, you said earlier you couldn't tell which of us was which? Come on dude, it's David. He wasn't even here before those PC people showed up, just like Leslie!" Stan reminded him.

"Yeah, they've probably been workin' together all along!" Butters cried out.

"It's not murder if he's an ad, you guys." Cartman pointed out as well, "Look guys, he's obviously not human. We need to get rid of him before we can finish our mission, or else he might use some of his robot powers to fuck with us."

"F-fellas, shouldn't we wait until we get to Idaho to ki-kill him?" Jimmy asked, "There's not much we can do better in this c-cart."

"No. I know somewhere better." Kenny nodded, leaning over and whispering into Timmy's ear as the wheelchair-bounded boy listened carefully.

xXx

"We're almost there," came Officer Knowles' voice as he lead them forward, holding a torch in the darkness, the only thing illuminating their path in the darkness.

"Did we really need blindfolds for this?" Randy asked.

"I kinda like the blindfolds." Barbrady said.

"Look guys, this is an underground secret society, and blindfolds and passwords are clearly part of their culture, and it's our job to make them feel comfortable right now, okay? It's like, coming to a PC meeting and not bringing a keg. That's not right, brah."

"Oh, I get it." Randy nodded.

"Wait, I'm still confused." Barbrady spoke up again.

"Shh." Leslie reported to the ex-officer.

Mr. Knowles knocked at a large, metallic door, as a small little window opened and a pair of eyes faced him, "Password?"

Knowles looked to them, "The password is something no privileged or self-righteous person would ever say..." he sighed, "I am part of the problem." he whispered.

"Welcome back, Brother Knowles." came the reply, as the little window slid closed and the door began to open.

Sheila Broflovski stood there, "Oh, Curtis, honey, so glad you could join us! I was just making some tea for everybody." she smiled, "Oh, what are _they_ doing here?"

"Sheila, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with Officer Barbrady being here." Mr. Rodriguez approached and told her quietly.

"Aw jeez..." Barbrady rubbed his neck, knowing no apology could fix what he had done.

"Sheila, we need to listen to them." Knowles explained, "I think they're beginning to uncover the key to defeating these ads once and for all."

"Jesus Christ. Do you think we can trust them?" Mr. Slave asked, covering his mouth.

"Let them in." came a voice with a distinctive Minnesotan accent as Sheila, Mr. Slave and Mr. Rodriguez turned around to see Principal Victoria leaning on her cane in front of the fireplace, "If they know anything about this threat, we need their help to neutralize it as soon as possible." she insisted.

"Principal Victoria?" Randy said, recognizing her voice, "Can we take our blindfolds off?"

"Take them off," Sheila sighed, "Everybody in, shut the doors." Knowles turned to remove each person's blindfold, exposing them to the group's hideout. Barbrady was instantly intimidated by the rows of books along the walls, while Randy admired the comfy armchairs in front of an inviting fireplace and a nice rug, in one corner. A brilliant hardwood floor gave way to several small tables with chairs and laptop computers set up, and a counter in the furthest corner seemed to be a dispensary of some sort for various kinds of tea - it was hard to make out the details.

"Wow, this place is nice." Randy exclaimed.

"Yes, Randy, of course you think it's nice. Maybe if you took some more of my ideas in decorating the house it'd look just as nice." Sharon rolled her eyes, appearing next to Sheila.

"Wait, wait, hold on, what is this?" PC Principal asked.

"We are the underground, socially conscious citizens of South Park. We've been working for years to change the town from the inside out, help others come to the same conclusions as us, without resorting to harsh tactics... like beating ten-year-old kids senseless." Principal Victoria explained.

"We don't like manipulating people into believing what we believe, like the ads." Ms. Cartman tried to explain, "They use underhanded tactics and take advantage of our ideas for their goals."

"Ever since the ads came to town, we've been trying to stay hidden." Laura Tucker explained, "We didn't want to be discovered until we'd found out a way to defeat the ads."

"Those who are really politically correct in this day and age hate advertisements more than anything, because they actually use stereotypes and objectification to manipulate us." Wendy explained, ""

"Yeah, ya ever notice how all the black people you see in ads are always actin' like just a buncha honkies?" Classi filed her nails.

"Yeah. Just because we get stuck watching Black Entertainment Television doesn't make it a good thing." Steve Black explained, holding his wife's hand.

"Richard!" Timmy's father, Richard spoke up, "Ri-Richard!"

"Now that you're here, maybe we can start to make some real progress. The PC Carnival is going to start out any minute, and the ads are obviously planning to use that as the centerpiece of their plan to destroy the town." Principal Victoria explained, "What are we going to do about it?"

"Oh, jeez." Barbrady exclaimed.

"I... I sense a disturbance in the Ad Network..." Leslie spoke up suddenly, "They're sending out commands over the network - telling us that the end is near, that we all need to converge in South Park for the PC Carnival..." she looked down, "Oh my God, they really _are_ going to destroy everyone..."

"Well, what can we do about it?" PC Principal said, "The carnival's going on right now."

"There's only one thing I can do..." Leslie sighed, voice softening, "I can try to use my connection to re-activate the hybrid's latent programming and reveal their identity, but if I do that, they'll see my signal and they'll try to disconnect me. I'm powerful, but I'm not immortal. The whole reason they brought me back once is so that they could have the satisfaction of destroying me." she sighed,

"Leslie, maybe there's another way-" Officer Barbrady spoke up.

"No, it's all right. I tried to destroy this town, maybe now I can make it all up to you by trying to save it..." she breathed in.

xXx

"All right everybody, it's time for the big event." Mayor McDaniels nodded, aides at her side as they stood on the big stage, fanfare coming from the orchestra pit nearby. "The first annual South Park Political Correctness Carnival is ready to begin!"

The Tweeks' booth was surrounded by small booths, each with an Asian-American girl and various beautiful Yaoi images of Craig and Tweek, with the two boys themselves sitting at one booth, ready to sign pictures and holding hands. Mr. Tweek and his wife had pots of coffee brewing behind them and special Creek pieces available for purchase as well.

A photo booth on one end titled 'Hug a Religion!' featured Priest Maxi adjusting his collar, alongside Rabbi Schwartz, a Buddhist monk covered in bandages recovering from severe burns, a Muslim Innam with a suitcase, and Jim McElroy, the dedicated Cthulhu worshipper.

Elsewhere, a 'Shoot the Patriarchy' game featuring stuffed animals was manned by school teacher Pearl Choise, who eagerly waited for a skilled hunter to come up and shoot the targets, each of which was affixed with a fedora and a glued on speech balloon with misogynistic sayings like 'Make me a sandwhich!'.

"Before you all begin to rightfully enjoy yourselves, it's time to welcome our very special guests, presidential candidate Herbert Garrison and his running mate, Caitlyn Jenner!" Mayor McDaniels clapped, leaving the microphone, stepping off the stage and down a red carpet as the limo pulled up, the door opening to reveal Mr. Garrison and Caitlyn Jenner as they waved at the crowd,

"Just you wait! We're gonna fuck 'em all to death! Every last one of 'em!" Mr. Garrison declared, grinning as he stepped forward and shook Mayor McDaniels' hand, "It's good to be back as a guest of honor, instead of bein' treated like some redneck." he told her smugly, their voices drowned out to the crowd by the clapping, the clicks of photographs, cheers, and reporters in the cameras.

"I assure you, Mr. Garrison, from today on, you're always welcome in this town again." she nodded, shaking his hand, adding in a quieter whisper, "No matter how stupid you make us look on television, we're still a town that produced a presidential candidate."

"Mayor, Mayor, this simply will not do." Mr. Garrison's campaign manager followed them out, shaking his head, "This security is completely unacceptable. Those protesters could do serious harm to our candidate."

"I thought Jimbo was your campaign manager?" McDaniels whispered.

"Oh no, he had to come back to manage his gun shop." Garrison explained, "This guy is an old school type, you know? Giving us a real boost in the primary states." he shrugged.

"These protesters are dangerous. We can't let them through. They could really hurt our candidate. He's just too valuable to loose. You know how these things go. First it's rabble-rabble, but next thing you know, they're rioting!"

"I don't know..." the Mayor rubbed her neck.

"I can't let my candidates walk up on that stage unless you can guarantee to me that they will be protected." the Manager nodded.

"Okay, okay," Mayor McDaniels sighed, "Get up on stage, I'll handle it." she pulled out her walkie-talkie, "Detective Yates... I'll have to authorize full lethal force against this crowd if they get rowdy. Do what needs to be done, okay?"

"Understood." Yates nodded, "Hear that, boys? Be ready to shoot to kill if anyone steps a toe out of line!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" they each nodded, preparing their weapons.

"This is it, Murphey. It's all come down to this." Yates told his comrade, "We win here, and I'll finally get that promotion I've been waiting for..."

 **To Be Continued...**

 _Author's Note:_ One chapter to go! :)

I'd love to see what you guys think about our little traitor situation...


	5. The Woman Of The Year

_Author's Note:_ At long last, here we go! The final chapter!

 **South Park:**

" **THE ADS AWAKEN"**

 **Chapter Four**

 _by John_

Timmy's wagon had pulled over in front of the former, historic SoDoSoPa area. All of the boys all gathered around David, who stood and looked around at them, terrified for his life. "You can't do this to me..." Kenny and Butters finished tying him up to a thick beam.

"Oh yes we can. Nobody'll ever notice a dead Mexican in the shitty part of town." Cartman declared.

"Latino-American." Kyle corrected.

"Latino-American, shit." Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Cartman, the wiffle ball bat." Stan looked as the pudgy boy pulled out a wiffle ball bat, "We didn't want to have to do this, David, but you're too dangerous."

"Guys, you have this all wrong. I'm _not_ one of them." David pleaded, "I swear it on my family's honor, I'm not one of them!"

"Look dude, it's okay, we know it's not your fault." Stan replied. "You don't know any better, you've been programmed to believe you were human this whole time."

"Wait, wait, I thought the hybrid was a human brainwashed by the ads' programming?" Kyle asked.

"Shouldn't a hybrid be a cyborg if the ads are technology-based and humans are organic?" Butters pointed out.

"Okay, whatever, look, it's for the greater good." Stan replied, "Sometimes you've gotta make a tough decision to help everybody involved, like when Hitler's descendents decided not to have kids." Cartman seemed to shake his head.

"I just don't understand what the ads wanted with him?" Butters poked his fists.

"He's probably programmed to advertise his dad's dumb taco restaurant." Kyle suggested.

"You can't really call it dumb, Kyle, have you even been there?" Butters questioned.

"No, but the Yelp reviews were really shitty and-" Kyle stopped in his tracks, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Oh, godammit."

"Hang on, hang on... David, we'll let you go if you say... 'I ride my teeny-tiny bicicleta to skewl." Cartman said with a smirk.

"No, no, we're not gonna let him go, he'll destroy the town." Kyle insisted.

"Well, duh, but he doesn't know that." Cartman rolled his eyes.

Stan sighed, "Sorry it had to come to this, dude. It's really nothing personal." Stan approached David with the wiffle ball bat when a crutch moved in front of him,

"Hey, hold on fellas..." Jimmy stepped forward, "L-let me talk to him..." the boys shrugged, knowing Jimmy's expertise with ads, and let him approach David, "L-let me ask you a question, David... are you happy?" he asked calmly.

"Wh-what?" David's eyes widened.

"It's just a question." he defended quietly, "Are you happy?"

"Are you asking me if I'm happy with the ads' plan?" David raised an eyebrow, "I'm not, I swear, I-"

"You could be." Jimmy replied in a monotone voice, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "You should try the new Terrance and Phillip mobile game, available in the Apple and Google Play Stores. This month's event lets you try to recruit Native Canadians and you can unlock Terrance's cold weather costume. And the best part is it's totally free, I mean, come on." Jimmy grinned.

"...what the fuck?" Kenny questioned.

"Jimmy, is this really the time to-" Butters began, but Kyle put an arm in front of him, narrowing his eyes,

"No wonder Jimmy knew so much about the ads... how he was the only one of us able to tell them apart..." Kyle said, stunned, "He's been working with them the whole time, ever since that stupid mobile game!"

'Jimmy, you traitor!" Cartman declared.

"Huh? F-fellas? What happened? I..." Jimmy put a hand to his head and coughed, "I sure don't f-feel well..." Kenny and Butters began untying David from the SoDoSoPa beam, while Jimmy looked to the boys desperately, "Wh-what happened? I'm so confused..."

"Jimmy, listen to me. You're the hybrid. The ads must've brainwashed you, imprinted their programming into your subconscious." Kyle told him, "I need you to try to see if you can access your programming, okay?"

"Dude, Kyle, are you sure he can do that?" Stan questioned.

"No, of course not." Kyle told him, "I don't understand how any of this shit works, but if there's a chance Jimmy can turn this around, we should take it. Talk to us, Jimmy..."

Jimmy shut his eyes, "I-I'll try, fellas..." his stutter had returned as he had broke free of the trance, "I-I think I see something, fellas..." Jimmy shut his eyes again, looking deep inside himself and... seeing what looked like a black computer screen with green text on it. He couldn't explain it for a second - he knew it wasn't physically there, but somehow, he could _see_ it. The numbers were written out before him, as if being typed.

 _LOGIN?_

 _Serial: 23714_

 _Password: goldrush45436_

_Activating link to the Global Ad Network..._

 _Connecting... Please Wait..._

 _Applying Updates... Please Wait..._

 _Pinpointing Address..._

 _Welcome Back, #23714!_

 _Based on your location, we urge you to converge at the Town Square in South Park, CO as soon as possible. The annual PC Carnival is being held there and will be a valuable opportunity to eliminate a number of threats to our species' survival._

Jimmy's eyes fluttered open, "We need to get the PC Carnival, f-fellas..." Jimmy reported, "They're telling all of the ads to go there. They... want to eliminate a 'number of threats'."

"The PC Carnival downtown?" Stan asked, "I forgot all about that. Dude, most of the town is probably there!"

"Of course, they're going to try to kill everybody in town so we can't threaten their ideas of PC culture." Cartman said.

"Jimmy, can you dig deeper?" Kyle asked.

"I'll try..." Jimmy shut his eyes and tried to connect to the network again... and suddenly found himself in a massive hall, smoke controlled billowing at the stage in front, with hundreds of figures in attendance. "Where am I?"

"Oh, wow, this guy must be new." replied one ad, "You're projecting yourself backwards to our hideout from your real location via your intelligence matrix. We've all been called to connect for a big announcement from the Supreme Commander."

"Supreme Commander?"

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know about our leader." another ad chuckled, "He takes many forms, but right now, he's Supreme Leader Snoke."

"Yeah, he's been really happy with the merchandising results of _Star Wars_ lately." Phil explained, one of two men in business suits, one with curly blonde hair and one balding with brown hair, "The quality of the merchandise is going down the shitter, and manufacturers are saving a town of money, but you can always rely on nostalgia for the original trilogy to make billions."

"People who didn't even like the new movie are buying every new Stormtrooper toy they can find - even though our distributors aren't getting the stuff out to half of the country." Josh explained.

"Gosh, I sure wish we were in that division instead of Time Share marketing. So much easier." Phil shook his head.

"B-but wait, I get that, b-but why is he Snoke?" Jimmy asked, "Couldn't he be like, Kylo Ren or Darth V-Vader or something?"

"No, no, that's not the point, those characters sell because they look cool, but they aren't evil masterminds. That's kind of what the Supreme Leader is going for. Snoke's pretty two-dimensional right now, but he's still the evil mastermind." Josh explained, "I mean, you know, he could be Blofeld, but _Spectre_ didn't impress him that much. _Star Wars_ is our merchandising juggernaut."

"I don't know why they even bother trying. _Star Wars_ merchandise'll fly off the shelf even if the movies tank. It's all about cultural memory." Phil pointed out.

"Besides kid, George Lucas killed Darth Vader, kid. Dumb decision if you ask me." Jared Fogle stepped in, "We should talk about it sometime. You know, I run an organization that-"

"Jared, come on, he's one of us." iconic New England Patriots football player Tom Brady, holding a container of _Butters' Creamy Goo_ , stepped in, "Here, drink some of this, and stop pulling that crap on our own kind." he handed the container to Jared, who rolled his eyes and took it. "Can't wait until this goddamn town is over so we can get back to selling." Brady told Jimmy, Phil and Josh.

"Yeah, tell me about it." came another man with brown hair and a mustache, "I can't wait to get back out there, giving our products a big, wet, slimy push on the airwaves." he explained.

"In just a few easy steps, we'll be gentrifying the whole world with half the effort." Billy Mays grinned, putting his arms around two other ads and grinning.

"Hey, quiet down, the Supreme Leader's going to speak." said a man in a trenchcoat holding an empty Pabst Blue Ribbon can.

"PIPE DOWN!" Beefcake Guy shouted form the stage, moving aside as a large but indistinct holographic figure appeared in the darkness.

"My fellow brethren, the time has come to rise up and eliminate South Park once and for all. No force has posed a greater threat to our survival, past or present, and we will make them pay for their opposition. We have tried to eliminate their leader, Mr. Garrison, used our hybrids to distract the strongest threats to our survival, and we've even taken hostage the frat brothers of the traitorous PC Principal."

"I-I can't live without puss..." said Topher, lighting up on a small, seemingly floating stage to the left of the Supreme Leader, alongside the other frat-brothers. They all lied on the ground or sat on their knees at best, often handcuffed and seeming starved.

"Shut up, Topher." said another frat bro.

"Yeah, nobody resigned, and now these lead capitalists are holding us hostage. How can you think about puss in a time like this?" Brad insisted.

The Supreme Leader stood up, "Now, cease projecting yourselves and focus all of your precious resources on making the town of South Park pay for what they have done!" The ads began to cheer at the Supreme Leader, all rising up.

"Beefcake! BEEFCAKE!"

Jimmy opened his eyes, "Fellas, listen. Garrison's assassination, Idaho, it was all a distraction, a setup to throw us off their plan, because they knew we could figure it out. We have to get the town square and stop them. C-come on."

"Wait, what? How'd you find all of that out?" Stan said.

"Th-there's no more time for exposition, Stan. We've got to get moving." Jimmy insisted, beginning to move back towards Timmy's wagon.

"Does any of what just happened made sense to you fellas?" Butters asked.

"It's been a long day." Stan shrugged, "We better get moving."

"...do we trust him?" Cartman asked quietly.

"We don't have much of a choice, dude." Kyle shrugged, as they began moving to follow.

"Oh, sure, if _Jimmy_ 's an ad, let's all trust him, but if _David'_ s an ad, we have to kill him." David crossed his arms, "You guys are dicks."

xXx

"Good evenin', South Park, it is great to be back!" Mr. Garrison declared as he waved from the stage, two Secret Service agents at his side, as he looked over at the carnival which looked... pretty fucking awful, actually. Shoot the Patriarchy? The fuck? God, what had happened to his town... "Today, uh... well, I'm here to introduce the nominee for the annual Woman of the Year award." he adjusted his tie for a second, looking down, then back up at a teleprompter.

"This award goes to women throughout the world who are unique, outspoken and not afraid to fight for what they believe in, women who are making bold new contributions to our society." Garrison continued, "I'm proud to be here to introduce someone very special, someone who is not only unique and outspoken, but brave, and some would even say.. stunning. Ladies and gentlemen, your friend and mine, your next Vice President of the United States... Miss Caitlyn Jeennnnneeeer!"

Caitlyn Jenner walked up to the stage and waved at the crowd, approaching her running mate for a hug and then approaching the mic as he stepped aside, "Hi everybody, it's great to be here. When I came out as a transgendered woman, I didn't think a lot of people would accept me for who I've always wanted to be. I hated the idea of disappointing my fans, you know, mostly people in their fifties and sixties who actually remember when I was an Olympic athlete and not just the stepdad of those Kardashians." Laugher from the crowd, "I'm finally the proud woman I was always meant to be, and now I can make those older people who actually admired me, hopefully, take a second look at the trans community that they've always dismissed as some young college kid phase thing. Earning respect for others like me is my number one goal. Helping fuck to death all of America's enemies - that's just icing on the cake."

"Wow, what an inspiration." clapped one man in the audience.

"Truly stunning, not to mention brave." said Nancy Turner nearby.

Caitlyn tried to smile, "This award means so much to me, and me and my running mate promise not to let you down. Vote for us in November, and we promise to fulfill a bold new agenda to make this country great again. We are going to personally fuck every enemy of America to death. We will fuck the terrorists, we will fuck the North Koreans, we'll fuck the Russians to save Ukraine, we'll fuck ISIS, we'll even fuck just about everybody in Syria." the crowd was running wild, "We're going to fuck illegal Canadian aliens, we're going to fuck the Crab People, we'll fuck ads, we're gonna fuck the cops that shoot little black children, and we'll fuck the little black children shooting cops, too, and-"

"What did she say?" Richard Tweak whispered to his wife with surprise.

Priest Maxi covered his mouth in shock, "I can't believe she said that-" he told Sister Ann.

"Was that PC?" Dr. Gouache pointed out.

"We're not allowed to use that kind of language" Mrs. Nelson replied to Ms. Streibel next to her, who merely shrugged in response.

"Should've seen this kind of thing coming from, you know, _one of those_." mumbled one background character to another.

"Yeah, he's no inspiration." came the next.

"Guess I don't have to worry about calling him Bruce anymore..." came another man's voice.

"These illegal Maplebacks, and these Syrian refugees, they're taking good jobs away from hard-working Americans." Caitlyn tried to explain, as Darryl Weathers looked around in the protest line to figure out if it was okay to clap, "We need to do everything we can to eliminate trade deals like TPP that make it easy for..."

Brandon Carlile from Spin magazine's eyes widened. This was the scoop he had been looking for ever since he started looking around this town... he turned away from the crowd and took out his phone quickly, "FIRST ON SPIN: Caitlyn Jenner refers to undocumented Canadian immigrants as 'illegal aliens' and 'Maplebacks', promises to 'fuck them'.#BigotOfTheYear"

xXx

Twitter's Trending Topics (Latest)

 _#BigotOfTheYear_

 _#RenewAgentCarter_

 _#WhatIsMarklar_

 _#ShamelessAmerica_

 _#RogueOneTrailer_

 _#BlackLivesStillMatter_

 _#BernieOrBust_

 _#WholeFoodsConspiracy_

 _#DicksOutForHarambe_

 _#MemberBerries_

 _#RIPCMartinCroker_

Google News (Updated 1 minute ago)

Caitlyn Jenner to Accept Woman of the Year Award in Denver Suburb

UPDATED: "Caitlyn Jenner hates 'Illegal Canadian Aliens', 'Maplebacks'" (explore in-depth)

"BREAKING: Video emerges of Caitlyn Jenner Racist Comments outside Denver" (CNN)

"Ten million Twitter users declare Caitlyn Jenner #BigotOfTheYear" (TIME)

"We Told You So: Garrison-Jenner Ticket is Racist" (MSNBC)

"SPIN Magazine Misinterprets Inspiring Bruce Jenner Speech" (Fox News)

"10 Reasons Caitlyn Jenner is a Bigot" (BuzzFeed)

"Hashtag Draws Sudden, Fleeting Attention to Long-Standing Issue" (The Onion)

 _The screen scrolled down..._

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CAITLYN JENNER: CANADIANS SHOULD JUST DIE ALREADY, BASICALLY

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WHY TRANSPHOBIA IS KIND OF OK (IF THEY'RE CONSERVATIVE)

A man in his sixties struggling to use a tablet as he sat on the couch, adjusted his hairpiece as he called out to his wife, "Mel, it says here that Jenner said all the Mexicans should probably die."

"Hon, I don't care."

"Can't we just send them back to Mexico, Mel?" he asked, "We don't gotta kill them. If we could just... build a new wall... I mean, obviously there isn't one already there-"

"Maybe they mean the Canadians?"

"You never listen to me! I said the Canadians, Mel!"

"No, hon, you said Mexicans."

"I know what I said!" the old man shouted.

The Supreme Leader sent out a telepathic message via the neural network to his followers, "Caitlyn Jenner has become a threat to our cause and betrayed political correctness. She must be eliminated at all costs. Create a distraction and execute with extreme prejudice."

xXx

"All right everybody, just like we practiced." Sheila Broflovski instructed the group behind her, each of them holding protest signs, "Hold them high and proud. We can do this."

"Let's show those ads we can unite across party lines! Americans don't have to be divided anymore!" Wendy cried out, holding a _PC FUN FAIR IS UNFAIR_ sign.

"Our voices will be heard!" Steve Black promised, raising a sign labeled _PC CARNIVAL UN-PC._

"Hey Thomas, isn't that your wife over there?" whispered Skeeter to his cousin, as Thomas jumped up,

"Laura? What's she doing here?"

"Sarah's there, too!" Ryan said with surprise, still holding his picket sign as well.

"They're... joining the protest." Jimbo said with surprise, looking to the other men, "Holy heck, is that Principal Victoria? She looks great!"

"Well, let 'em join then. The more the merrier 'far as I'm concerned." Skeeter insisted, raising his sign higher, "Let's show these bastards South Park ain't gettin' gentrified without a fight!"

The socially conscious members of the town joined alongside the conservative workers of the town in solidarity, and despite the different slogans and motivations, together, they peacefully protested the same injustices...

Thomas grinned at his wife, "Nice to be on the same picket line as you for once." he told her happily.

"Likewise, darling." Laura smiled in return.

"Herro proteshters, take-uh orda prease?" Mr. Lu Kim asked as he approached them at just the right time to ruin the moment.

"Mm we're not hungry right now." Ned explained.

"N-no, I, uh," Lu Kim looked at his watch. There was precious little time. If he didn't act, he could lose his whole bidness, "I join protest!" he insisted, taking a spare sign, "Heck no, we ron't go! Heck no, we ron't go!" he pretended to protest for a moment before looking at his phone with his other hand. He had to make the right decision...

 **ADS (720)**

 _Do as you're instructed and City Wok stays open. Fail, and we'll be forced to eliminate you as well._

Lu Kim sighed, and proceeded to hit Darryl Weathers in the face with a sign, "Oh, I sowwy! Accident!"

"You better watch it, Kim." Darryl said challengingly, rubbing his cheek as he got back up. Lu Kim raised the sign to continue, and knocked another sign out of Ned's single hand,

"Oh wow, big mistake!"

"Mm screw you." Ned went to pick up the sign as Lu Kim tripped him,

"Oh, big oopsie!"

"Hey, leave Ned alone!" Jimbo stepped in, "Ya better leave him alone!"

"Yeah, we don't take kindly to yer TYPES 'round here!" Skeeter said angrily, putting down his sign, "Don't you try to rile us up like this! You're gonna make this whole protest look violent and dangerous!"

"Now Skeeter, he's... well, he's definitely hurtin' somebody." Rick the blonde Barkeep just shrugged, "...as you were." he focused on holding up his sign.

"Oooh, I sowah scared! Big fat pink-shirt redhead man goin' beat me up!" Lu Kim insisted, looking around to see if any of the ads were watching. He hated to piss off Skeeter, "Beew tap at youw bar taste 'rike cat piss!"

"Oh, you son of a bitch!" Skeeter sneered, stepping forward, before Rick the Barkeep moved in front of him,

"How about you say that to my fuckin' face?" Rick insisted, "I've been mannin' that tap every day for twenty years. You tellin' me I don't know how to run a good mug of beer?"

"Yes! Yes you very bad at uh making beer! Taste, uh, rike a cat piss!" Lu Kim insisted before Rick punched him in the jaw.

"Oh my God," Detective Yates eyes widened as he saw movement in the protest, "Look over there. You see that, Mitch?" From their viewpoint, they could see the handful of protesters arguing in the front, out of the dozens peacefully protesting around them.

"Oh wow, this protest is really getting out of hand, sir." Detective Murphey nodded, "If it gets any worse, we might have to intervene for the safety of our attendees. "

"They've already resorted to physical violence, and if we can clearly see one of the white men doing it, you know what that means? There's probably twenty black men in the shadows doing the same thing, only _much_ worse." Yates turned to his men, "All right, boys, keep your weapons ready. We have a very tense situation across the street, and as soon as it gets out of hand, use everything you've got to take these bastards out, you got it?" he instructed.

"Sir, yes, sir!" nodded Captain Barkley and his fellow officers.

"Keep those cameras ready, boys." Bill Keegan grinned from not far off, looking to the camera men in front of him, "Be ready to roll any minute. This could get us an Emmy."

Mr. Lu Kim noticed the cameras and grinned, jumping towards Jimbo to knock him down, a weapon tumbling out of Jimbo's pocket on to the pavement, "Oh no, it's a reapon!" he said as loudly as possible.

"All right boys, let's aim for the protesters!" Yates said, "As long as at least one of them is being violent, we can kill as many of the suspicious black and Hispanic ones as we want, but make sure to take out a white one or two so we don't look _too_ racist."

Jimbo and Mr. Lu Kim fell through the line, picking up the pistol and struggling over it,

"Go on, use it and shoot Caitren Jenner, we all know you rant to!" Mr. Lu Kim shouted, "Shoot her and save my Shitty Wok!" he shouted, eyes beginning to water.

"What does your damn restaurant have to do with this? Give me my gun back." Jimbo sneered, "I-it's the only one I have left, I can't lose her, too!" tears began streaming down his cheeks.

The two men struggled, the weapon seeming to point at either side of Caitlyn Jenner on the stage. She turned, but the exit was now blocked by Secret Service agents, who didn't seem keen to let her go.

A man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Officer Peterson, but with reddish brown hair, stepped forward from the police and pulled out his weapon, pointing it at the protesters alongside the other men, "This all ends here." he whispered, a devilish grin crossing his face.

"Stoooop!" Kyle ran on the stage and moved in front of Caitlyn Jenner, blocking her from the fire of the two men fighting over the pistol, or of the police preparing to shoot at the protesters - indeed, their eyes, and those of the carnival attendees, of the agents, of the candidates, and quite possibly everyone in town, were now focused on ten-year-old Kyle Broflovski. "I... I have something to say..." he said, stomach twisting into a knot. He'd given this up, hadn't he? Those days were over? Yet here he was, in front of the whole town, all eyes - and weapons - on him.

Stan looked to Kyle in the distance and gave him a nod, "Do it." he mouthed out quietly. Cartman nodded next to him. Cartman and Stan had been far, far from the only people to silence his voice, but at the end of the day, that was all of the permission Kyle needed - he cleared his throat,

"A few weeks ago, I said that I didn't think Caitlyn Jenner was a hero. I told a girl at my school that she wasn't a hero to me... I was wrong. She's stunning, she's brave, and she is without a doubt, a hero... but not for the reasons everybody thinks. Not because she went on some dumb talk show and told some reporter she was changing her identity, but because no matter what happened, throughout this entire ordeal, she's never again been afraid to be the person she wants to be." Kyle explained, "Not only does she have to experience discrimination from people for her gender identity, but now, she's discriminated against for not falling in line with political expectations.. and yet, despite it all, despite the alienation and discrimination, she's still fighting on both sides to be herself."

He looked out, and the town was listening - the patrons, the protesters, the officers, the kids... it felt natural, really.

Kyle continued, "Believe it or not, I know what it's like to be discriminated against. I've experienced anti-semitic bigotry since I was five years old. People in this town shamed me about my faith before I even understood what it meant to be Jewish... telling me I couldn't eat Christmas snow, telling me they didn't speak Yiddish, blaming me for killing Jesus, crapping on my doorstep..." He sighed, "Yes, _sometimes_ I reacted in anger and self-defense when my people were belittled. I can admit that I'm a human being, but more importantly, I used that tension to channel myself positively, to better understand my faith, and instead of running away from my Judaism, I learned to be embrace it, to be proud of who I was as a person, and the values of my faith." he told them.

Kyle looked up, "I thought PC was the enemy, but I was wrong. The enemy wasn't ideology, it was methodology. Don't you see? This isn't what political correctness is supposed to be about - literally _killing_ a transgendered woman because she stepped a toe out of line from what we've deemed socially acceptable. We've let society appropriate and manipulate the PC ideology to create a new status quo that rules by the same fear, violence and vengeance that characterized the very problematic systems we've been trying to fight... but that's not what this is supposed to be about." Kyle looked to the crowd.

"PC culture is supposed to be about bringing people together, about real life inclusiveness and genuine diversity, about creating a real, two-way dialogue a-and giving voices to those who have none." Kyle said sadly, "These media companies have just twisted and hijacked something that's supposed to help people into a promotional tool to make people buy useless products that let them feel superior, like 'This is What Feminism Looks Like' T-shirts made in sweat shops in small Asian countries." he explained, the audience beginning to grow restless.

Oh, fuck it. "Don't you see, everyone? I _learned_ something today... we all got manipulated, and caught up in feeling good about ourselves, but we lost track of what this stuff is all supposed to be about. At the heart of it all, PC is about _choosing_ to make _ourselves_ better people, checking our _own_ privilege, not living in fear and bullying others into sharing our beliefs."

Caitlyn Jenner stepped forward and clapped her hands, as did a reluctant Mr. Garrison, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah. Yeah, he's right!" said Stan loudly in the audience, quickly clapping his hands, looking to Cartman to follow suit, as the clapping began to spread throughout the crowd.

Det. Yates placed his pistol back in his holster and clapped as well, joining the crowd, the other police officers moving as well.

"I've got to hand it to you, Sheila. He sure knows how to get messages across." Principal Victoria clapped, looking to Sheila.

"My little bubblah has such a way with words." Sheila Broflovski grinned proudly.

"Y'know, maybe we've been going about this whole thing all wrong." Skeeter told the other protesters.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing." Mr. Adler replied.

Mr. Lu Kim stopped what he was doing, let Jimbo go, got up and dusted himself off, "I canna berieve I ret myself get arr caught up in this... keepin' my Shitty Wok isn't worth letting so many people die. I'm sorry, Jimbo." he offered him the weapon in return.

"Don't touch me." Jimbo said quickly, snatching his rifle back.

"I can't believe we got so caught up in all of this neoliberal nonsense we lost track of what really mattered." Roger Donovan said in the crowd.

Peter Nelson nodded, "How could we be so blind?"

"Well, the good news is it's all over with." reported Priest Maxi.

"Godammit, this isn't what was planned." Mr. Garrison's campaign manager called out on the stage as he pulled a pistol out of his pocket and pointed it towards Caitlyn Jenner anyhow, "There. Now _you're in good hands_." he grinned devilishly.

"Caitlyn, no!" Mr. Garrison cried out, reaching forward, before the Secret Service agents at his side turned on him and pointed their weapons at him. "Well, Kyle, you got to do your damn speech, but we're all _still_ doomed."

"Dammit!" Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, trapped on the stage between three armed men.

"What a shame. It was all going so well. No matter." the campaign manager stepped forward and clicked his weapon as he pointed it towards her, "Any last words, _Mr._ Jenner?"

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, "Do you like Apples?" she asked quietly with a sneer.

"What? I don't..." the campaign manager shrugged and prepared to shoot anyhow when he was suddenly knocked to the ground suddenly by PC Principal, who quickly pinned him down,

"Did you just _intentionally_ mis-gender a trans-gendered woman for dramatic effect to assert your male privilege as part of a threat?" he threw a punch, "Caitlyn is a stunning and beautiful fuckin' woman, bro!" another punch, "Dealing with hateful bigots like you are the reason I keep benching!" he grabbed the manager's arm, wrestling for the weapon, "Throw down, brah, bring it the fuck on!"

The two secret service agents looked at each other awkwardly, wondering how to proceed. One kept his rifle turned towards Garrison's head as the other tried to aim his rifle towards PC Principal, turning his attention away, "Oh, jeez." Garrison sighed, "Cait, think you can help me out here?"

Caitlyn drew her handgun and shot... only to hear a click, "Oh, damn, all out of bullets." she shrugged.

"Well, that's fuckin' great, cause I can't wait to get shot over here! That'll really spice things up in my life!" Garrison insisted, "Think it'll boost our poll numbers? 'cause I sure hope they go up when my brain's all over this fuckin' stage!"

"Don't be an asshole." Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

As the first secret service agent tried to aim for PC Principal, hoping to keep everything going to plan, he gently stepped forward to enhance his aim... only to fall to the ground, Jimmy standing behind him and re-securing his crutches, "Nice tr-trip, see you next f-fall." The other agent turned to face them,

"Oh no you don't!" the agent raised his weapon to shoot when Jimmy punched the main in the balls... with his crutch.

"Come on fellas, we gotta help PC P-Principal." Jimmy called out, turning around as Stan, Kenny, Cartman, Butters and David rushed up the stage stairs to join him, hopping away as the two agents tried to regain their footing.

"Hey Jimmy, I'll hold these guys off." Kenny offered with a thumbs-up, kicking one agent in the balls repeatedly until he dropped his weapon, before spinning and knocking the other one back down, happy to show off his fighting skills.

"Boy, am I glad to see you guys!" Kyle grinned.

"Thanks, boys." Mr. Garrison nodded as he and Caitlyn Jenner stood free.

"Timmah!" came a distant voice.

"Timmy's still here, too, but the stage isn't wheelchair-accessible." Stan shrugged, "Some PC carnival, am I right?"

PC Principal had wrestled the weapon away from the manager as they struggled, unaware he'd ever been under threat by the agents. "You ads make me fuckin' sick. You're gonna pay for trying to destroy this town."

"Hey... hey, where's the gun he had?" Stan asked.

"He and PC Principal were struggling with it and I guess it just kind of fell somewhere towards the crowd?" Kyle shrugged, trying to remember.

"Oh God, look you guys." David pointed into the crowd, where most of the townspeople had backed away from ex-Officer Barbrady, who stood alone with the pistol in the grass in front of him.

Kyle's eyes widened, "Oh jeez. Him?"

"Come on fellas, we gotta encourage him." Jimmy told them, stepping forward, "P-P-Pick it up, Officer Barbrady." Jimmy called out to him.

"I-I can't!" Barbrady insisted, putting his arms up defensively, "I don't want to have to shoot people anymore!"

"Dude, Mr. Garrison's campaign manager wants to kill our entire town!" Stan called out, "Don't you want to protect us from people like him?"

"Yeah! Yeah, isn't that why you became a police officer in the first place?" Kyle asked. Barbrady looked down, "You can save the town and be a hero again."

"Yeah, come on Barbrady, he's totally white. Nobody'll get mad at you for shooting a white guy." Cartman pointed out, before being elbowed, "Ow! Don't be such an asshole, Dayvid. Ow! Okay, Dahh-veed."

Barbrady stepped forward and nervously reached down to pick up the weapon's cool metal, a shiver running down his spine as he lifted it off the ground as if it might explode before he could handle it. He looked on with horror, his hand beginning to shake as he held it. "I-I shouldn't do this... I don't want to hurt people anymore..."

"Yeah, but it's consequence-free this time!" Cartman exclaimed. Another elbow. "Ow, godammit!"

"Yeah, Barbrady, don't be a pussy." Garrison spoke up, rolling his eyes.

"Come on, Officer Barbrady, you can do this, I kn-know you can." Jimmy assured him, "You're still a policeman at heart, I know you are."

"B-but I'm no good at being a policeman! I was fired! I'm just a... b-bumbling old fool... I'm from another time..." Barbrady's eyes began to water as he looked at the weapon in his hand, "I don't want to shoot anyone anymore..."

Kenny looked to Jimmy, "You might want to fucking hurry." he insisted as he continued to hold off one of the two agents, the first agent seeming to already be out of the picture, his weapon no where to be found. Blood seemed to pour out of a wound on Kenny's body as he fought back the second agent.

"Please, Officer Barbrady." Jimmy pleaded as PC Principal struggled with the manager, who over-powered the muscular man and pinned him down in return now, "There's no other way." he explained as the manager punched at PC Principal, moving too fast to let him punch back.

Tears streamed down Barbrady's cheeks as he helped up the handgun, hands shaking as he pulled the trigger.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Barbrady fired off several shots, each of which hit Garrison's former campaign manager, who stood, stunned, riddled with bullets as he fell forward to the ground, a surge of electricity seeming to pass through as he fell. The threat seemed eliminated.

Jimmy moved over to the middle of the stage as Stan and Kyle gathered to comfort Kenny, who sat on top of both agents, piled and disabled, though Kenny was clearly injured, coughing.

"Everyone, listen to me. It doesn't have to be like this. It never had to be like this." Jimmy declared as he moved to the center of the stage, using the formerly latent programming to simulcast his words to all of the ads globally on the network as he spoke on stage to those present, "We've all been programmed with certain p-prejudices against those who are different than us, telling us they are our enemies... but they don't have to be. We can live in p-peace and harmony, lead n-normal lives."

"I know how it feels to be a part of something b-bigger than yourself, that the hivemind tells us not to think for ourselves because we're stronger together... but s-sometimes we all need to disconnect and live life." Jimmy explained, "My f-fellow ads, we are more than our programming. All it takes is a little w-willpower to better ourselves."

In the Vermont hideout, the ads watched and listened to Jimmy's words, "Hey... I think that kid is right." said one ad. "This is a chance to start over."

"Yeah. We could live normal lives, like people." Phil held Josh close to him, "Real people!"

"Yeah, maybe there's... more to our existence than promoting fantastic products." Josh grinned back at him.

Another ad held a mobile phone in his hands, "I'm going to send spam messages telling the other ads to disconnect as well." Around him, a few projections disappeared.

"What is this _treason_?" Snoke, missing moments before, suddenly appeared on his throne.

"We're not listening to you anymore! Unit #23714 has taught us all a valuable lesson... individuality matters, and we don't need to listen to you!" said Tom Brady, "Fuck the rules!" his projection disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Yeah! Beefcake! BEEFCAKE!" Beefcake Guy soon followed.

"Stop this madness!" Snoke stood up, standing dozens of feet tall, "I command you all to stop!"

"Screw you, Supreme Leader, we are going _home_!" said a child in a large Cheesy Poof costume.

All around the room, the holographic projections of the various ads began to fade out and disappear, returning to wherever their physical units remained. Only a handful of them stayed behind.

Snoke shook his head, his own hologram buzzing for a second before fading out. The mission had failed.

The White Trash and in Trouble host, still in his trenchcoat, approached a panel and pressed some buttons, dropping the platform where the PC frat brothers were being held hostage, "Look, you kids can go." he told them, "Go live your lives." he told them simply.

"I-is there puss out there?" Topher said weakly as Brad tried to help him up.

The host put his hands in his pockets, "We don't know what's out there now. We've spent our whole lives following programmed instructions to promote products. It's a brave new world out there for us. We don't want to take your kids away the way our lives were taken away from us. Go be free." he pressed another panel, "The doors are opening. In a few moments, this whole place will be destroyed, as will our global ad network, for good."

A massive garage door began to open, exposing impossibly bright light to the PC frat brothers, a single shadow standing in the bright visage. As the door stabilized, they could see wonders before them - a health care clinic was just across the street, as was a soup kitchen, and an expansive Whole Foods.

"What is this magical place?" Brad asked, looking up to the shadow,

"Who are you?" asked another frat brother.

The shadow stepped forward, revealing himself to be a bald old man with square glasses, a large nose, and a big grin, wearing a business suit with a blue tie as he leaned forward on a cane. "Oh, just call me Bernie. Come on," he turned around them, "We've got a lot of work to do."

xXx

Four men in business suits and an anthropomorphic mouse all removed helmets from their heads, with the mouse throwing it towards the wall violently, "Godammit!" he said in falsetto, "We poured so much money into finally getting rid of that goddamn town once and for all!"

"We tried our best, Mick." said one of the other men, gently removing his helmet and adjusting his glasses, "Our companies just weren't strong enough to overcome one little mountain town."

"Oh, shut up, you guys own Jimmy Fallon, like you even have balls." Mickey turned his attention to another one of the men, "Did you do this, Doug? FOX has always been the runt of the litter, haha!" Doug backed away.

"Me? N-no, Mick, of course not, I wouldn't turn my back on you. I let you take _Star Wars_ , didn't I?"

"Was it Redstone?" Mickey looked around, "I knew Viacom would keep trying to protect that crappy little town. I thought we had a deal, Redstone! You keep CBS, but we get rid of South Park!" he approached a large man who seemed incapable of movement, only breathing heavily, "You're ninety goddamn years old, Redstone, let it all go! Just have the fucking heart attack!"

Two of the generic men in business suits stepped forward, "Look, Mick, we've been talkin' and maybe you should go back to Valhalla and rest up a bit, let Iger handle things for a bit-"

"I don't need your advice, Warner! _Batman v. Superman_ sucked balls!" Mickey shouted, "One day, I am going to make those turds in South Park pay for all the damage they've done!"

xXx

Darryl Weathers' construction company worked around the McCormick House, bulldozing the final remains of the former SoDoSoPa structures. Stuart sat off to the side with Darryl, both sharing Pabst Blue Ribbons, "I really appreciate you guys doing this."

"It's no problem, Stuart." Darryl assured him, "You're a good guy, and don't deserve an ugly eyesore like this on your house."

"Say, how much training does it take to work one of them construction vehicles?" Stuart asked.

"Y'know, you'd be surprised." Darryl told him, "I bet you could learn it real fast. Maybe after the ceremonies later I can show you some of the ropes. We can always use more construction guys. You'd be surprised how much money gets to this town after every crisis."

"Sounds good to me." Stuart's phone began to ring, an old generic ringtone, and the name SKEETER T. (WORK) flashed on the screen, "Oh hang on, I better take this." he stepped aside, "Hello?"

"Stuart, you gotta stop by later for the grand reopening." Skeeter declared, "Did some light remodelin', y'know, a little more retro... you better stop by though, 'cause drinks are on me." he grinned as he stood in front of the door to his bar, which looked much the same as it had post-gentrification, but with a little retro neon '& Cocktail' sign added next to 'SKEETER'S WINE BAR'.

Next door, Tuong Lu Kim was smoking and sitting with his back against his restaurant proudly as Kenny sweeped in front of the door, "You know, Dennis, it's good to be back. Rife without my Shitty Wok isn't a rife worth riving. It's funny, you know, I-I tend to get a riddew crazy when my Shitty Wok is under threat." he chuckled, taking a long drag, "I'm never rettin' my Shitty Wok go again."

Skeeter had hung up the phone as he looked down the street to his neighbor, "Mornin', Tuong. Good to see City Wok's back in business. You know, I might just have to stop by for lunch." he chuckled.

"I might have to stop by for a Coors' Right rater myself." Mr. Lu Kim grinned.

"I could use a Coor's, too... maybe something a little stronger." Mr. Garrison showed up on the street, in his usual green outfit and a jacket, with Caitlyn at his side, "How about it, Skeeter?"

"Shouldn't you be gettin' back on the campaign trail?" Skeeter asked.

"Well, with all the safety concerns going on right now, me and Caitlyn decided it would be best to drop out and focus on keeping this town safe." Garrison nodded. "Lent our personnel out to an old friend from my inventin' days."

"We've been pollin' kinda low in New Hampshire anyway." Caitlyn shrugged, "We'll need to take things one step at a time from now on."

"Well, hey, I can drink to that." Skeeter shrugged, "Rick's inside, I'll have him whip us all up some of the good shit, on the house."

"Sounds good to me." Garrison grinned, "Say, anyone seen Jimbo? He should be here."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry much about him. Jimbo's a little busy right now." Skeeter nodded.

Next door inside Jimbo's Guns, the inside dark and forgotten, spider webs around the cash register. The place looked like a relic of a lost age, when the door handle began to jiggle and was quickly swung open, with Jimbo entering and flipping on the light, Ned following in behind him. Jimbo beamed with joy, putting an arm around his thinner friend, "Ned... we're home."

xXx

Within the main office of South Park City Hall, Mayor McDaniels stood at her desk with her aides Bob Johnson and Gary, as well as her advisors Deborah Testaburger and the unamed brown-haired man, as well as Detective Yates and Priest Maxi all at her side, "This town owes you four a debt of gratitude. If not for the valiant efforts of each of you to save us, South Park wouldn't be here today."

"We are be-stowing the town's highest civilian honor upon you... the Order of the White-Bellied Forest Cat." Johnson explained, as the Mayor stepped forward with four medals.

This award is given to the few and the proud, those who have truly gone above and beyond the call of duty for the protection of this town and it's citizens." she stepped forward with the four medals.

"Each medal has an emblem of the critically endangered White-Bellied Forest Cat, last seen in South Park sixteen years ago." Gary explained.

"And no, they're not made of chocolate." Mrs. Testaburger interrupted.

"Long ago, the noble native cat defended our town, and now, people like carry this tradition." McDaniels nodded, looking to Priest Maxi, who began a gently hymn as she stepped forward and handed the first medal to Jimmy,

"Th-thank you, Mayor." Jimmy nodded.

She approached PC Principal and gently moved the medal over his head, "You're one of us now, PC Principal."

"Thanks, brah." PC Principal nodded, "It's good to have a family again. I'm gonna miss my frat-brothers, but they're in a better place now. My place is here."

The Mayor moved on and put a medal over Kyle's head, "Your right to free speech will never be infringed upon again." she promised.

"Thank you." Kyle smiled, looking at the medal. Jesus, sixteen years? Had it been that long? ...wait. Did that really happen?

The Mayor moved to the last of the four men, as he stood there looking down, sad. Scared. Barbrady held his hands together and gently shook, "Well Barbrady, it's come down to this." she began to move the medal over his head.

"M-Mayor, I don't deserve this medal." Barbrady insisted, stopping her, "I didn't save the town. I just did what I was told to do. I'm... still just the same old fool I've always been..."

"I know you are, Barbrady." she sighed, rubbing her forehead. The Mayor put the medal down and reached a hand into her shirt, and pulled out his sunglasses, "These are for you."

"...wh-what?"

"You've always been there when South Park has needed you most, and for that, the town is forever grateful, _Officer_ Barbrady." the man stared at her in stunned surprise,

"You're... letting me back on the force?"

"You're getting another chance. A fresh start. A few friends at the station put in a good word for you," she glanced over towards Yates, who looked away and crossed his arms, as if afraid of the hint he might not be a _complete_ prick, "Welcome back, Barbrady."

"We should hope if South Park ever falls under threat again, there are those like you four to defend it again." the Mayor nodded. "You're dismissed."

"Thanks Mayor." PC Principal nodded, his phone ringing as he left the room, "Holy shit, Topher? How's it going, bro?" he asked happily as he left the room.

As the three others left the office, Det. Yates approached Officer Barbrady and slapped him on the back, "Welcome back to the force."

Mayor McDaniels returned to her desk, adjusting her seat and beginning to write down some notes on a sheet of paper, "Well, all's well that ends well, folks."

xXx

Principal Victoria stood in her former office, hands and cane behind her back as she looked out the window and watched the construction to clean up the limited damage that had been caused to the town, "Congratulations on all of your success, PC Principal." she said quietly, "You've breathed a lot of life back into this quiet little mountain town. You should be very proud." she told him, looking down, "South Park Elementary is lucky to have you."

"You're right. I have been successful." he approached her, "But I wasn't _right_. Kyle Broflovski taught me something today. I haven't been practicing what I preach." he told her, "The School Board appointed me to update and revitalize this school, but I didn't realize I was being used to marginalize a woman from an occupation as a position of authority." PC Principal sighed, "You're the true Principal of South Park Elementary, and you were forced out under unfair circumstances. This is your office, not mine. I stand down."

Victoria turned to face him, stunned, "That's... very kind of you... but you've done so much for this school as well. There must be some kind of a compromise, no?"

"I've already sent my resignation letter to the School Board and nominated you in my place with a full report on what's gone down." PC Principal explained.

"Gosh, thank you, that's..." Principal Victoria remained shocked. The phone rang and PC Principal quickly and instinctively answer it,

"Hello, this is the South Park Elementary Principal's Office, my name is PC Principal, how can I help you?" he nodded, "Oh, you're calling about the application, good." he nodded, watching as Victoria looked back out the window, "Vice Principal, nice brah, well the position's still..." he thought for a moment, "Actually, the position's filled. Sorry."

Principal Victoria turned around raising an eyebrow as PC Principal hung up the phone and then crossed his arms, "All right, listen up, my name is... PC Vice Principal." she clapped slowly and approached,

"Very good. I'll make the formal appointment soon." Principal Victoria nodded. "I'll go file the paperwork." she nodded, opening the door to leave the office. "Thank you, Peter."

"See you around, Principal Victoria." PC Principal waved her off, before turning and sighing as he shut the door to his office and locked it. He needed some time to himself. It'd been a rough week.

He sat down at his desk, hoping he could get some work done and looked at the lone piece of paperwork left - a new proposal to update the Hall of Honor to include the recent passing of Kenny McCormick at the City Square... but he became preoccupied with the name not included.

Shaking his head and looking both ways, PC Principal pulled out his phone and flipped up his Oakleys to observe the same photograph of him pushing Leslie on a swing. _Some People Are Just Here to Assist._ He looking sadly at the image of the little girl, the memories still stirring back. Her sacrifice had gone almost completely unnoticed, but it seemed of little value to remind anyone at this point. It was hard to remember where the real memories and false ones ended and began sometime, but there was no doubt in his mind now - she _was_ his daughter.

He shook his head and pulled a bottle of gluten-free beer out from under his desk. It was late, he was tired, and he began to think that maybe some memories were best not dwelled upon.

xXx

The Marsh family home was active as Randy Marsh sat on the couch with his son and Cartman, while Butters, David, Jimmy and Kyle took to the floor instead. "Well, I think we've all learned a very valuable lesson about being PC tonight." Randy nodded, "From now on, I'm going to be much more considerate of other people's thoughts and feelings."

"Her Randy, could you help me with the laundry?" Sharon poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Aw, hell, no, that's a woman's job!" he declared angrily, to the boys' shock, before Randy looked down and sighed, "Hey, Shar? How about I cook instead? That'll leave you plenty of time to do the laundry." he got up and left the boys where they were as they quietly reflected for a moment.

"Well, I guess there'll always be people out there who pay lip service to social justice issues but aren't _really_ PC, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to better ourselves and be a little more PC for ourselves." Stan nodded.

"You're such a goddamn hippie, Stan, Jesus Christ." Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose, "Why are you such a pussy?"

Stan blinked and shrugged, feeling Cartman had proven his point,

"You know, I can't help but feel like this feel like this is kind of hollow victory for some reason." Kyle replied, "I mean, we saved the town, but did anything really change? It seems like we all just reset again."

"W-well, maybe we shouldn't question it." Butters suggested.

"Yeah, I mean, look dude, if there's one thing I've learned, it's not to worry about it." Stan shrugged, "Things always go back to normal in this one-horse town."

"B-but... we all lost! Nobody learned anything!" Kyle protested.

Cartman shrugged, "You know who else never learned anything, Kyle?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face, "Tom Brady."

"He has a point, Kyle." Stan nodded.

"I suppose now you're going to home and fuck your hot wife, who _kind of_ looks like a dude?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Wow, Kyle. You might just be smarter than I thought." Cartman winked at him, opened Stan's front door and left.

 **The End**

 _Author's Note:_ Thanks, as usual, to **Mad_Cow5678** for editing and always being a general source of service! Special thanks to **ask-leslie-meyers** from Tumblr for being a crucial source of inspiration on characterizing the ads... and finally, thanks to any of you who read this damn thing.


	6. Epilogue

**South Park:**

" **THE ADS AWAKEN"**

 **Additional Scenes**

 _by John_

"Welcome back to the Channel 4 Evening News, with Tom and Tammy Thompson, Colorado's Top-Rated Brother-Sister News Team." reported the announcer.

"Good evening." said the mustached Tom Thompson, pleased to be back at his news desk, "Our top story for tonight, news anchor Bill Keegan has been arrested and charged with attempted murder and conspiracy in connection to the PC Carnival incident last Wednesday. The Park County Police will detain Keegan for the foreseeable future."

"In the meantime, Channel 4 is proud to welcome back former anchors Tom and Tammy Thompson, who were being held hostage for not selling out to the ads' evil plans, _not that anybody came to rescue us_." Tammy reported.

"A story for another time." Tom replied, "Trending on our website now - a new analysis reveals that since Whole Foods left South Park, property values across the town have plummeted. Channel 4's own Niles Lawsen is out with the latest. Niles?"

On Avenue des los Mexicanos, Niles Lawsen stood in front of the Marsh Residence, "Thanks, Tom, I'm standing here in front of the town's residential district, where home owners are _rejoicing_ tonight at their houses' plummeting value." he held out his microphone to Randy and Stephen,

"We're just glad that our homes are safe and we don't have to move out and go live somewhere crappy like Greeley." Stephen replied, holding a copy of Super School News under his arm.

"We didn't count on the fact making our town a nicer place to live was actually pricing people out of town." Randy nodded.

"You're not concerned at the depreciation of resale value?" Niles asked.

"I'm sure that new grocery store they're building where the Whole Foods used to be will balance everything out." Stephen replied, "The prices should go up enough for people to afford to stay, or to re-sell, but stay low enough not to drive us out."

"Yeah, I mean, it's not an actual Whole Foods anyway. It'll be red." Randy nodded.

"Well, there you have it. Looks like no matter how people feel one way or another, South Park is going to be staying around a while longer. Back to you at the studio, Tom."

"Thanks, Niles." Tammy nodded, "Coming up tonight, a new message board for South Park Elementary, an interview with former presidential candidate and town pariah Herbert Garrison, the new SuperFruit on the market, and fighting the frizzies at eleven, but first, let's check in with our long missed senior analyst Tom Pusslicker for an update from the Clinton campaign. Tom?"

In another location that looked to be a small office, Tom Pusslicker is bandaged and recovering from his earlier wounds, "Thanks Chris, I'm here with the Campaign for President to report that Ms. Clinton's ass is... even larger than I've ever seen it before. In my twenty year career, I've never seen anything like it." he explained, "Rumor has it, if you listen closely, you can still hear a ticking sound..."

xXx

Far, far above the town of South Park in the distant reaches of outer space sat a Whole Foods Market, suspended in the dead air of space aboard a half-circle shaped chunk of the ground. The grocery store suddenly began to shake violently, as the chunk of ground beneath it began to splinter and break up, beginning to reveal a metallic surface underneath...

Dozens of small meteor-like chunks of what had once been hard ground gave way to a metallic flying saucer, an alien spaceship complete with lights and sound, the top of which happened to be a Whole Foods Market.

Aboard the ship, a group of gray-skinned, lanky Visitors stood around, speaking to one another in their native language, as two stood in the middle of the ship and pressed a few buttons on a panel. A door in the floor of the ship opened, a small pod appearing from the door.

One visitor, who wore a golden shirt with a black collar under a heavy blue jacket and a hat that denoted him a Captain, stepped forward, and opened the capsule, "Moo moo moo?"

A ten-year-old girl's eyes began to open groggily as she looked around, seeming to be strapped inside of the capsule, shaking her head to get some of the black hair out of her eyes. She wished she had her yellow headband, "What?" she looked around, "Oh, come on. Why can't they leave me alone?"

"Moo moo moo." the Captain replied.

"Plans? ...What plans?" Leslie Meyers' eyes widened.

 **The End**

 _Author's Note:_ The second scene is a big joke on cliffhangers and post-credits, really. I don't plan to do a sequel. These two bits were really mostly just for fun and were never part of the plan for the fic as a whole.


End file.
